


Command and Navigation

by KonstantineXIII



Series: Meeting Again [6]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Astrometics Are Life, Canon at my Convenience, Did I mention sex?, F/F, G!P, GP, Light Angst, Nerd Jargon, One Shot, Oral Sex, Sex, Star Trek - Freeform, Sweet, That is Now A, This Certainly Went Places, Two Shot, Vaginal Sex, Varro!Lexa, human!clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-11-20 17:05:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 78,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11339712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KonstantineXIII/pseuds/KonstantineXIII
Summary: “Permission to speak freely, First Officer He’da?”The brunette stiffened, “I do not think-““Right,” the blonde steamrolled, and Lexa felt the ramrod of her posture want to bend. The steel in the human’s eyes, while beautiful, threatened to make her smile like she had in the bar.“So, we kissed,”





	1. What's In That Nebula?

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many things to say about Star Trek. For anyone requiring strict adherence to Trek lore… lower your expectations. Enjoy the ride!

 

**Day: -1**

“Kentucky bourbon, rocks,” the brunette ordered flatly, the bartender nodding and moving away. She set about paying, and noticed the interested sparkle of brilliant blue eyes across the bar corner. Lexa flexed her jaw and ignored the woman. The Bajoran barkeep traded her money for the drink and she shifted to sit on the barstool and read quietly.

“Hey, Dojan,” she suddenly heard, the relatively quiet bar allowing the sound to travel, “Happen to have two more shots of that Skagaran whiskey somewhere around here?”

The voice was a smoked rasp, and Lexa peripherally caught a flicker of the speaker’s eyes on her again.

“No,” the Bajoran man gruffed, pulling two glasses and a corked bottle out. He rolled his eyes and set them in front of the blonde. The woman’s smile was heard clearly through her rusked, “You’re a champ,”

Suddenly, Lexa sensed air, warmth, and then a glass was in front of her.

“You know,” the blonde started gamely from where she had slid next to the quiet woman, “This stuff is illegal in every system in the Beta Quadrant,” she moved with an impressive amount of grace as she poured two shots, the liquid swirling amber then darkening to purple. She pushed the drink in front of the brunette, “It’s also illegal to drink alone,”

As soon as the woman turned to Lexa, the brunette felt her fingers lose a degree of strength. This woman, human, from the sweet smell and shine of her golden hair, was beautiful. The expectant look on her symmetrical features made Lexa’s stomach flip, and the beautiful smirk at her lips made her feel daring. Still, she cocked a brow and slowly shut her book.

“Is that right?” she asked softly, and the blonde’s eyes deepened as she recognized that this strange, beautiful creature was willing to play her game.

She nodded confidently, “Outlawed, really. Strict enforcement,”

“Then I am happy to tell you, Skagaran whiskey was outlawed in 2153 in only the Delphic Expanse. It seems you are safe from danger,” Lexa smirked a little.

The blonde huffed an elongated laugh, shifting a slight bit away from the woman.

“My hero,” she murmured, her blue eyes brightening as Lexa continued to send her that challenging stare, “You know, most girls just take the shot,”

“I did not mean to ruin your sport,”

“Oh, it wasn’t sport,” the blonde waved, “But it is now,” she mused. Lexa eyed her interestedly as the blonde drove on, a wicked smile playing at her lips, “So who are you, beautiful? Research and Development for off-world Tech? Space Cowgirl? Interstellar Hottie, commissioned to shoot down well-intentioned women in bars?

“Well-intentioned?”

The blue eyes shimmered and Lexa felt her lips curl in an answering smile.

“As well-intentioned as a girl can get in a place like this,” the blonde tipped her head to the monotonous establishment, “Not a whole lot to do but make your own fun,”

“I have been observed to be many things in my life,” Lexa cooled, “Fun has never been one of them,”

“Sounds like you hang out with a swell group of people. Asexual, but swell,” the blonde winked, “Let me guess, Starfleet?”

The brunette straightened her spine, and the blonde huffed out an amused sort of sound, “Of course. You just had to be,”

“Is that a problem?” Lexa mellowed, truly interested in the reaction.

“Not at all,” the woman soothed, a glint in her eye, “In fact, it’s encouraged. You could say I’ve had a few… experiences with Starfleet,”

Lexa tipped her head, “Do you always speak while thinking of your sex organs?”

The woman barked a laugh, “You have got to tell me your name,”

“Will you cease to make sexual suggestions if I do?” Lexa asked, the lightest hint of playful to her even voice.

The blonde’s eyes gleamed, “You drive a hard bargain, Starfleet, but deal,”

And for no reason whatsoever, “Yours first,”

An immediate smirk and parry, “Take your shot,”

The brunette nearly smiled, a lifetime of stoic response saving her. She reached out and tipped the drink into her mouth. The blonde’s eyes twinkled as Lexa’s cheeks pinked at the harsh, cool taste of the liquor. She set the glass back on the counter and lifted a brow.

“Clarke,” the woman greeted. Then, she reached to take her own shot, placing the empty glass back down with practiced ease.

“Lexa,” she gave demurely.

“So tell me, Lexa,” Clarke graveled, her eyes skimming over Lexa’s beautiful features, “What brings you to DC?”

“This is my favorite bar,”

Clarke laughed. Lexa only just noticed she had been letting small escapes of sound emit from her throat.

“Right, and my mother’s a fleet admiral,” the blonde drifted back, “You trying to run?”

Lexa lifted a brow, “Do I look the type to run?”

“Hm,” Clarke let her eyes scan over Lexa’s visible body, appreciative and assessing, and the brunette rolled her eyes, making Clarke laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she defended, “I just get all kinds of curious as to what people look like outside of those spiffy little uniforms,”

Another droll look while Clarke sat, satisfied and amused.

“I apologize for ruining the mystery. If it makes you feel better, you can pretend we never take it off. I would hate to destroy the illusion,”

Clarke laughed, her chest warm. She breathed and cast a glance to the timepiece on the wall. Lexa’s eyes followed hers curiously, before watching Clarke get up off the stool.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure,” she started, pouring herself another shot, “But I have to be somewhere in the morning,” blue eyes sparkled even as the woman tipped her head to take the strong shot. Lexa let herself smile.

“So soon?”

Clarke laughed, “Trust me, I’d love to stay and have you satisfy all my curiosities, but I really do need to go,”

Lexa simply hummed, risking a glance down Clarke’s form as the woman paid the bartender.

“So, Lexa,” the blonde whirlwind breezed, “Thank you,”

The brunette tipped her head, “For what?”

And then, she was being kissed. Smooth, soft lips pressed gently against her own. Her eyes immediately shut and she felt Clarke’s lips adjust and part to take her bottom lip in her mouth, and Lexa’s hand slid into that soft, blonde hair.

Whatever Clarke had intended this kiss to be, it quickly dissolved into something else. Something that quaked in Clarke’s stomach and had her humming as Lexa’s cool tongue slipped briefly under her top lip, and she ached to chase it. Too soon, she felt Lexa pull away slowly.

“Wow,” Clarke breathed as she rested her head against the brunette’s, her eyes heavy as they searched Lexa’s face, “Definitely thank you. Are you sure you wanted me to stop with the sexual suggestions, Starfleet?”

Lexa’s lips pulled into a sweet sort of smile, “I thought you had to be somewhere in the morning?” she teased, pulling away further.

“And who’s to say we just met?” Clarke grinned, “You already know my schedule,”

Lexa folded, and laughed, pushing the blonde gently away from her.

“It was interesting to meet you, Clarke,”

The blonde started walking backwards, hands in the back pockets of her skin-tight jeans, “Likewise, beautiful,” she gave a final wink, “Likewise,”

* * *

 

 **Day: 1**  

Clarke stepped through the opening to her new home for the foreseeable future and breathed deeply. She took half an hour while the rest of the crew boarded to try and get familiar with the layout of the ship. Though it was technically one of the smaller starships, after 30 minutes, Clarke had still only traced about half of the ship. Luckily, her path led her to the mess hall.

“Clarke!” she heard.

Smiling, the blonde entered fully and sat with two familiar-looking people.

“Raven,” she smiled, “Octavia. Settled in?”

The Betazoid grinned, “As I’ll ever be. Why did neither one of you ever tell me how fucking cool a real engineering room was?”

Octavia gave a scoff, “Only you would ignore the bridge, the holodecks, the sonic showers, and pretty much everything else, and go to engineering,”

Raven smiled guiltily before retorting.

“Well at least I’ve got the mission in mind. We stepped on board and you tried to ask out a hologram,”

Octavia feigned offence, “It’s not my fault the holographic medical personnel were programmed to be so hot,” she turned sly, “Besides, I already have two ensigns’ room assignments and an open door policy,”

Clarke threw her head back in laughter as Raven gave a low chuckle, looking resistant. She caved and grinned broadly at her friends.

“Oh, hey, Clarke, did you see the First Officer over there?” Octavia tilted her head to a point behind the blonde, “Hurry, she’s about to leave!”

Trying to be casual, Clarke twisted in her seat to catch a view of the back of a tall, slim woman with elegant shoulders v-ing down to a trim waist and well-maintained backside. A split second later, the mess hall doors closed behind her.

“That was the First Officer?” Clarke asked, her tone clearly approving, her eyes even more so. Raven rolled her own.

“Easy, Clarke, didn’t you see her neck?”

Octavia nodded sagely. The blonde lifted a brow.

“I had two seconds to look at the back of her, and you think I spent it on her neck? You’re joking, right?”

The Betazoid sighed, “Her neck. The tattoo looking ridges?”

Clarke continued to stare at her.

“She’s a Varro,” Octavia finally provided. The blonde only blinked.

“And?”

Octavia simply laughed and returned to her food. Clarke tried not to take that personally.

“I don’t understand, what does that mean? What species are off-limits just for being a species? Does she have tentacles or something I need to know about?”

Octavia snorted into her soup.

Raven rolled her eyes, “You’re exceptionally kinky for a human,” Clarke winked while the empath carried on, “It means that she doesn’t do ‘just sex’. She’s a Varro. Varro mate for life.

The other human chimed in, “I heard that sex with them can be fatal or something,”

Clarke blinked.

“What?”

Octavia nodded before seeming to count in her head, “It’s true. I had a buddy at the academy whose roommate’s, friend’s, stepfather’s, _third wife_ was a Varro. He said that after sex, being apart kills either the Varro or the weaker species or something,”

Clarke lifted her brows, impressed. Raven shook her head.

“Besides that, this is Al’Lexa He’da. She was the top cadet in her year out of Starfleet Academy. I’ve heard crazy things about her work ethic. They wanted to send her straight to command school, but she turned them down,”

“Why’d she turn them down?” Octavia asked through a mouthful of potatoes.

Raven shrugged, “Not a clue. But she comes with one hell of a reputation, and I’ve only ever felt Vulcans be as calm as she is,”

Clarke tilted her head, listening but not really. The First Officer had been fit, sure, but Clarke was about to be responsible for the positioning, navigation, guiding system, and exploratory documentation for that woman’s entire starship. Clarke was wild, sure, but as a Starfleet officer, duty came before libido.

Her musings were interrupted by the double chirp of her comm badge, “First Officer to Lt. Commander Griffin,”

The blonde breathed, her first act on the USS Ambassador’s maiden voyage set out, “Go ahead,”

“Report to the bridge for an initial debrief,”

“On my way,”

She stands and bids her Academy friends farewell. The swift hum of the turbolift settled her shoulders, and she ran a hand over her standard bun. Slighty out of regulation, but still professional.

The lift doors parted, and she nearly smiled as she stepped onto the bridge. Even still attached to the spaceport, the black of space always took her breath away.

“Lt. Commander Griffin,” a voice reached her, and the woman turned.

“Holy sh-“

“It is… nice to see you again,” Lexa breezed smoothly, her eyes flickering with a green glimmer of something very close to amusement. The blonde found the grace to shut her jaw and heave a deep, steadying sigh.

“Of course. Commander, “ She couldn’t help but smile, eyes bright, “Lieutenant Commander Clarke Griffin, Chief Navigator and Second Combat Pilot, reporting aboard the Intrepid-class starship, USS Ambassador. Pleased to be aboard,”

If she had been feeling more flippant, she would have added a jaunty salute, but Lexa had merely given a twitch of her jaw and a slow decline of her head.

“Lt. Commander, I am First Officer Al’Lexa He’da. You may address me as Commander, or First Officer He’da,”

Clarke twitched an eyebrow, and Lexa felt a pull at the bottom of her stomach as a defiant sort of glint entered Clarke’s blue eyes.

“If you would follow me, Lt. Commander, the Senior Officers are assembling in the briefing bay,”

The Navigator gave a charming little dip of her head, and Lexa almost paused to address it, the look in Clarke’s eyes were so mildly detached. But her professionalism carried her to take the lead to the room adjacent to the bridge, and she entered with what Clarke observed as an exceptionally neat sense of movement. She situated herself in an open chair, and pulled out her tricorder.

“Good morning,” a woman spoke up, her voice resounding with an inhuman electric sort of steel. Standing, she must have been at minimum six foot tall, her characteristic Ruji height, slim build, and black under-eye markings telling her species, “I am Captain Anya Triged, and this is the Starship Ambassador. Aboard is a crew of 150 for our mission, 5 years of deep-space exploration. And I’m going to tell you now - the mission is secondary,” she announced boldly, her eyes sharpening to the select few around her.

“These 150 people are our responsibility. My crew – our crew – they are first, always. Everything this vessel does is devoted to seeing their return home. Am I clear?”

Clarke felt herself warm considerably to this woman, and a solid chorus of, “Aye, Captain,” met her question. She gave a tight nod, “Then let’s begin the initial brief. All departments report,”

“Chief Engineer, Lt Wells Jaha,” a neat, boyish-faced human, “Matter-antimatter reaction assembly warp core is humming like a bird, Captain. Reaction chamber compositor primed. All propulsion systems online and ready to enter warp.”

Anya nodded, pleased. She turned to the next figure.

“Chief of Security, Indra,” a dark-skinned Klingon female, “Enforcement team training is up to date, as well as all intelligence and cyber security systems a go,”

Another nod.

A large, male Romulan, “Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Lincoln Reed,” he seemed to grow restless under the eyes of the table, but remained calm. Clarke wanted to ply him with questions. A Romulan Starfleet Doctor? That sentence seemed impossible the longer it went on, and yet.

“All crewmember medical records accounted for and logged. Mobile hospital at 100% and on standby,”

He passed the attention to the man next to him with clear relief.

“First Pilot, Lt Bellamy Blake,” the doctor’s carelessly handsome neighbor nodded, the black hair and grey streak of a Rutian, “Helm fits me like a glove, and we’re ready to depart, Captain,”

The Captain paused out of her nodded rhythm until the pilot straightened in his seat and gave an apologetic grimace. Only then, did she nod and look to Clarke.

“Chief Navigator and Executive Astrometics Officer,” the blonde started, “Lt. Commander Clarke Griffin. In a pinch, I’m logged and certified at 2,000 hours of Combat Pilot training,”

“How versatile,” Bellamy grinned. Clarke matched the expression mildly.

“What can I say? I’m flexible,”

The pilot opened his mouth to reply, but Lexa finally made her presence known in a controlled sort of command, “Thank you, Lieutenant. Status report, Lt. Commander?”

Clarke nodded, tapping at her tricorder until a hologram of their course appeared, “With all systems clear, the route is set to head toward the space station Deep Space 9. Reassessment and course charting will follow on into the Delta Quadrant,”

“Excellent,” The Captain decreed, her expression serious but full of pride. A few more words, and she ordered all hands on deck for departure at 1400 hours, leaving them two hours to prepare, “Dismissed,”

The senior officers seemed to take their time leaving, standing to greet one another more informally. Even Dr. Reed stayed to silently listen. Only Clarke seemed to notice Lexa move almost immediately for the door. 

“Commander,” she called, snatching up her tricorder. The Varro held still.

“Yes, Lt. Commander?”

Clarke watched the woman with careful eyes before casting about, “I’d like to show you more in detail the route to Deep Space 9 in the astrometics lab. Would you mind?”

The brunette’s breath seemed to catch, and Lexa jaw tightened to prevent herself from swallowing nervously. She dipped her head, avoiding the bluest of eyes she’d seen of any species.

“Of course,”

Clarke simply nodded and gestured innocently to the turbolift. Lexa felt a powerful need to roll her eyes at the lift of Clarke’s eyebrow and curling corner of her lips. The Varro stepped boldly, and tried to shake the pull that rested in a lower quadrant of her heart.

In the lift, Clarke asked the computer to send them to the astrometics lab, and she considered asking Lt. Jaha to check if it was somehow slow. With just Lexa next to her, Clarke was suddenly too aware of the fact that Lexa was taller that she was. Broader, too, her Starfleet uniform flattering the trimness of her waist and length of her legs.

The blonde sighed at herself. Maybe she should have tried harder to get laid before she left.

As for Lexa, she was desperately trying not to wrinkle her nose. She had thought that Clarke smelled sweet simply for being a human, but this was something else. She clenched her jaw, controlling the urge to breathe deeper.

Finally, the turbolift slowed and opened. A short walk later, and they entered the cool, open atrium of the lab. An enormous, wraparound, holographic screen dominated one curved wall, while the area below had a large raised deck. In front of that was a stretched workstation with the complex control panels.

Lexa admired the room before jumping at the sound of the door sealing behind the two. It wasn’t the sound, so much as the expression Clarke threw her.

“Permission to speak freely, First Officer He’da?”

The brunette stiffened, “I do not think-“

“Right,” the blonde steamrolled, and Lexa felt the ramrod of her posture want to bend. The steel in the human’s eyes, while beautiful, threatened to make her smile like she had in the bar.

“So, we kissed,”

Lexa nearly lost her footing. Clarke couldn’t help the small, pleased glimmer that entered her eyes at the expression on the rigid woman’s face. Lexa glared, recovering.

“Yes,”

“It was a great kiss,” Clarke added unnecessarily, watching the woman with amusement.

The First Officer simply flexed her jaw and sighed through her nose.

“Are you going to be able to be professional about this?”

Clarke smirked, “Sure thing,” she stepped toward the taller woman, “Depending on if you knew I was going to be on board. You didn’t look all that surprised to see me on the bridge,”

Lexa straightened, “I saw you in the mess hall,”

“Hm,” Clarke hummed, looking the Varro up and down, “I see. And what’s with Commander He’da?”

The Varro frowned, “What?”

“Are you revoking my Lexa privileges?”

Clarke wasn’t sure what she was doing, but the woman before her was like a magnet. She just felt drawn to her. Her expressions were irresistible, and her responses were ones you were just dying to elicit. Clarke couldn’t explain why, but she wanted to get under her skin.

Lexa glared at this impossible, beautiful, woman, her Starfleet uniform unbearably flattering on her hourglass figure. She grit her teeth.

“You may call me Commander, or He’da,”

“That’s not what you said last night,”

Lexa narrowed her eyes, fully aware she was being toyed with.

“You also said your mother was a fleet admiral,” she accused.

Clarke gave a wiry smile, “She’s really just a rear admiral,”

The Varro gave a disbelieving scoff of amusement and took a half-step forward.

“You really wish to play your games with the officer in charge of your duty assignment hours?”

Clarke lifted a corner of her mouth at Lexa’s challenging stare, meeting her step, “Now that’s just unprofessional,”

Lexa rolled her eyes, while Clarke breathed steadily.

“There’s definitely something between us,” she eased, her eyes mapping Lexa’s face, “But I don’t think we need to let it interfere with our work,” her blue eyes observed the relaxation in the brunette’s posture, “We’re both Commanders on this vessel, and have duties with close ties,”

Lexa saw the peace offering and took it with a nod, “I agree. And I would be happy to let the… unexpected circumstances of our meeting go and focus on a clean,” she swallowed, “professional relationship from here on out,”

Clarke dipped her head, her eyes tracking the way Lexa’s lips moved.

“Sure,” she quieted.

“Good,” Lexa whispered, her face so close to Clarke’s. The blonde’s eyes were nearly hypnotizing, and the soft, warm scent surrounding her made her want to relax.

They stood in the quiet lab for tense beats, neither yielding.

“I should be going,” Lexa strained.

“Me too,” Clarke’s tone was a smoked murmur.

“Right,” the Varro hushed against Clarke’s mouth, her movements skimming the softest of lips.

Clarke can’t remember who moved, but suddenly they were kissing. She felt hands around her waist, and she cradled Lexa’s skull in her own as the wet blade of Lexa’s tongue edged a dance against her own.

God, she was a wonderful kisser. Desperate and deep, Lexa kissed like a dream, and the brunette felt her head go cloudy as Clarke’s breasts pressed against her own, nipping her bottom lip.

Either she was pulling, or Lexa was pushing, but Clarke found herself backed up to an offline control panel and lifted on a point to seat partially on it, drawing the Varro between her legs.

Lexa couldn’t stop the rattling sort of moan that escaped when her nether region, already pooling hot blood and hardening, skimmed Clarke’s groin. The blonde didn’t even try to halt her answering groan.

It was the groan that did it.

Lexa broke their kiss with a gasp for air, and her eyes snapped open. Clarke followed, and the electric blue eyes had washed out into a deep, lusty cerulean.

“We’re fucked,” Clarke breathed.

“No,” Lexa rasped, “We just have to organize ourselves,” she drew breath and straightened slightly, “And make a plan,”

Clarke swallowed, her mouth still tingling around the rich, honey-syrup of Lexa’s tongue.

“Right,” she ran a hand over her uniform and stood solidly, pushing the First Officer slightly away, “This is good. Okay, so, a couple options,” she thought quickly, “We could just try and avoid each other?”

Lexa set her jaw, trying to clear the dense, sunshine and tea scent from her palate, “I fear even the largest ships become small after time passes,”

Clarke nodded, seeing her point.

“We could just have sex and get it over with?” Lexa glared at her, and Clarke shrugged, “It’s an option,”

The brunette scoffed, “It is not,”

Clarke tilted her head, “Oh, because you’re Varro?”

Lexa paused, frowning, “What?”

Clarke scratched her eyebrow and made circular hand gesture, “The whole, mating and sex and dying thing,”

Lexa scoffed, “Humans,” she rolled her eyes.

“As a human, offence,” Clarke drawled.

The brunette’s gorgeous lips twisted into a smile, “Varro commonly mate for life, yes. But that is a mutual agreement of _olan’vora_ , the shared heart,” she shifted, “It is penetrative sex, but more. The two desire to create the bond, and so it is created,” The woman flexed her jaw, looking carelessly guarded.

“It does not stop us from sex as a principle,”

Clarke hummed, looking impressed, “That’s nuts, but good for us. So you’ve definitely… had sex before?”

At her question, Clarke was treated to the sight of blood suffusing to the tips of Lexa’s perfect ears.

“Specify,” the woman murmured, trying to look stern.

Clarke smirked, “ _Penetrative_ sex,”

Lexa’s jaw twitched, and Clarke already recognized the telling movement. She tried not to grin too broadly when the proud Varro ground out, “That is not relevant,”

“Right,” the blonde smoothed. She tipped her head, “So sex isn’t totally off the table, is what you’re saying?”

Lexa looked embarrassed but like she had a goal, “Yes,”

“Awesome,” Clarke smiled, “Have you ever heard of friends with benefits?”

Lexa felt herself still.

“Yes,”

“What do you think about it?”

She considered her words carefully, “With the proper restrictions and understanding, it seems very… convenient,”

“You bet your beautifully maintained ass it is,” Clarke winked.

Lexa gave a scoff, and Clarke only grinned wider.

“Wanna give it a shot, gorgeous?”

Lexa’s head immediately reared at the designation, but Clarke didn’t apologize in any form.

“You are insufferable,”

“As long as I’m still hot,”

Lexa laughed, “Arrogance is unbecoming,” she chided, and Clarke shrugged.

“What do you say? Friends?”

Lexa sighed and nodded, “With benefits,”

“Swell,” the blonde smiled, and was surprised none when Lexa composed herself with regulation posture and a clearing of her throat. Hands behind her back, the woman steadied.

“I will create a draft of restrictions and boundaries, I suggest you do the same. We will compare and come to a mutual agreement,”

Clarke looked on, amused. She gave a flagged salute, “Sure thing, Commander,”

Lexa rolled her eyes.

“Have a nice evening, Clarke,”

The blonde smiled genuinely, “Be seein’ ya, Lex,”

Lexa nodded before dipping her head and exiting the astrometics lab. Clarke bit her lip in utter satisfaction.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

**Day 4**

“Griffin, a word?”

No one even shot them a second look as everyone filed out of the Captain’s meeting. Clarke nodded with a professional ‘Yes, Commander’.

 And so it came to be that Clarke sat at the small kitchen table in the First Officer's spacious quarters, a PADD in front of her, and feeling like she needed a legal representative. 

"First and foremost," Clarke laid in, Lexa next to her and attentive, "No attachment. We're friends. We work together. And honestly, I'm just not looking to make permanent ties. I actively avoid it,"

Lexa nodded in agreement. So far, dealings had been smooth.  

“I would also like to assure you that I have no plans to see anyone during our arrangement,”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, “Are you expecting some reciprocity there?”

Lexa tried not to visibly flinch. Clarke’s eyes ran errantly over her, and smiled good-naturedly.

“Relax. Of course I won’t. At least, not at the same time,” she graveled, then looked interested, “Unless you’re into that kind of thing,”

Lexa guffawed, smirking down at her PADD. Clarke felt an answering smile crawl across her own lips. Lexa really was beautiful.

“Right, next?”

The brunette nodded succinctly, “Frequency caps?”

It was Clarke’s turn to laugh in surprise, “You’re assuming I’m the one that’ll need to take breaks?”

Lexa’s lips twitched but didn’t reply. Clarke fixed a challenging look to the green eyes, and Lexa couldn’t help but rise to the bait.

“No cap, beautiful,” the blonde crooned, “Anytime is fair game, as far as I’m concerned,”

Lexa’s jaw tightened, “Good,”

Clarke’s eyes turned flat and energized, those oceanic cerulean flickering down to Lexa’s lips.

“And… How do you feel about kissing?”

“Encouraged,” Lexa breathed, the phantom sensation of Clarke’s lips on hers tingling in her memory. 

"Beautiful," Clarke praised, her body halfway out of her chair. This time, it was clearly Lexa who was at fault, as Clarke straddled her and deepened the kiss. 

It was like breathing again. 

"What?" Clarke growled. On the other side of her comm badge's chirp, Octavia's voice laughed. 

"Holy shit, Clarke, I was just seeing what you were doing for dinner. Raven's already in the mess,"

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Clarke huffed distractedly, Lexa's lips skimming her throat and behind her jaw, "Griffin, out,"

Lexa broke away and sighed.

"I have a feeling that this will not be as easy as would be convenient,"

Clarke tossed her a small smile, "So eager?"

Lexa scoffed. 

"Please. You will break first,"

Clarke straightened with a raised eyebrow on her way to Lexa's door, "I bet you don't make it two weeks,"

The Varro looked back, nearly impassive in her expression. 

"We will see," 

* * *

 

**Day: 10**

As it were, the course debriefing after departing Deep Space 9 was the last straw. Jointly, they met in Clarke's quarters, and both would claim the other at fault. But as Lexa shucked the last of her clothing off, her eyes roving over Clarke beneath her, she couldn't have cared any less as to how they got there.

She lay completely on the bed and ghosted kisses to Clarke's stomach and hips. Clarke sucked her lip into her mouth and parted her legs easily. Lexa stared. 

“You are…” the Varro seemed to lose her meter, her eyes nearly feasting on the sight before her, “very beautiful,”

Clarke shot her a look filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. Some kind of awe mixed with hunger and impatience.

Lexa swallowed, her mouth welling with anticipatory moisture.

“All Varro have the same sexual make up,” she explained halfheartedly, still taking in the beautiful, soft pinkness of Clarke’s lips.

The blonde bit at her lip and tried not to squirm. She smiled slightly, her eyes swimming deep in hunger and amusement.

“Well. Your birds and bees must be very confused,”

Lexa snorted a laugh, making the navigator shiver from the expelled air against her. Still, Lexa persisted. She kissed Clarke’s inner thigh gently, then opened her mouth to give a soft suck. When Clarke gave an involuntary shudder, the brunette’s smile sharpened cockily.

Clarke rolled her eyes in exasperation, though the reason why quickly left her mind as Lexa dealt nips of near ecstasy-inducing electricity to the slim columns of her legs.

“Lexa,” she gasped, nearing a breaking point of self-control.

The Varro simply hummed and skimmed her nose along the path she had already suctioned into the woman’s sensitive inner-thighs. Lexa inhaled and resisted the urge to rut downward into the mattress at the explosion of flavor that aerated into her senses.

“Clarke,” she whispered. In response, the blonde ran her hands through the Varro’s hair, but didn’t push.

Finally, Lexa licked a wide stripe up Clarke’s womanhood, and she gave a low groan of relief at the taste. Clarke was slippery saltiness and deep exotic warmth. Somehow, it made Lexa’s mind blank with satisfaction and want all at once. She moved her tongue in easy strokes over the outer lips of Clarke’s neat cunt.

“You,” the Varro said hoarsely, focused on her task, “taste very, very good,”

“Lex,” the blonde moaned, her brow furrowing in something close to impatience, and Lexa’s brows rose in surprise as her nose brushed a particular spot, and Clarke jumped sensitively.

Steadily learning the delicious flavors and scent of Clarke’s beautiful wetness, the brunette extended her tongue to connect with the opening she knew to be the source of Clarke’s lovely warmth. Simultaneously, she reached a hand to press a thumb gently at the button toward the top of Clarke’s sex, as it gave the woman pleasure when she did so.

Currently, Lexa’s jaw was aching with effort, but her tongue had buried itself inside Clarke’s delicious channel of warmth and tang. Out of pure inspiration, Lexa started up an easy rhythm of mimicking intercourse with her tongue, her thumb drawing languid circles around Clarke’s sensitive flesh in time.

It was only a few more minutes until Clarke’s breathing pitched toward frantic, and her fingers clawed in Lexa’s hair as she came.

Lexa’s lips curled, and Clarke breathed a laughing pant at the pleased glint in her eyes. The brunette licked her lips and wiped her glistening mouth on Clarke’s inner thigh. The blonde swallowed and sighed as Lexa kissed and licked even that bit of moisture off of her.

A final, soothing kiss, and Lexa glided easy, skimming brushes up Clarke’s body before settling next to the woman, her teeth going to nip at her ear.

“Do all humans taste that good?” Lexa murmured, her smile pressed to Clarke’s neck.

Clarke laughed and turned to press a satisfied, grateful kiss to the Varro. She wrinkled her nose when she pulled away.

“I have no idea,” another simple kiss, “But you’re definitely not allowed to go and find out,” she teased.

Lexa gave a breath of air through her nose and hummed.

“Clarke,” she called.

“Hm?” the blonde was lazy with pleasure.

“I need to come. May I take use of your shower?”

Clarke huffed out a harsh laugh, “No,” Lexa’s eyebrows pitched before Clarke cut her off, “Absolutely not. Here, turn- yeah,”

With Lexa on her back, Clarke wasted no time in dropping kisses down the Varro’s body. Harsh sucks at the thin skin of Lexa’s hips, and Clarke palmed the woman’s length as she teased, stroking slowly.

Testing to see what Lexa liked was clearly a torturous game, but Lexa let Clarke play it. She sent wet licks to the tip of her cock, stroking her hand. Clarke probed the leaking slit, and wetted Lexa’s sizable length. She glanced at the Varro, and swallowed Lexa’s dick as best as she could.

Lexa threw her head back and gave a guttural moan, flexing her jaw to keep from bucking her hips into Clarke’s mouth. The blonde worked her over interestedly, testing. It was delightful.

Clarke watched Lexa’s abdomen flex and her neck strain fluidly with her mounting orgasm. The blonde caught Lexa’s breasts in her hands and rolled her nipples just enough to ground the woman. Watching the normally so tightly-controlled First Officer writhe gave Clarke a heady sense of victory. She felt powerful and skilled, and Lexa was undone.

Clarke pulled her mouth away and continued to jerk her off, kissing her length.

“Come on, Lex,” she rusked, her throat raw and thick, “Let me taste you,”

Lexa groaned. Clarke’s searing mouth closed over her tip, the soft press of her tongue fluttering the sensitive underside. The peak she had resisted falling off loomed in front of her, but at Clarke’s husky instruction, she let go.

“Clarke!”

Clarke nearly started as Lexa suddenly grasped her hand and gave a full-body shudder. Her mouth immediately filled, and she instinctively closed her eyes and picked up a soothing swallow with every rush of cum. Lexa tasted distinctly sweet. Like thick, unfiltered buttercream and coconut water.

She hummed as she stroked Lexa’s cock through her orgasm, and the Varro finally breathed in relief as she emptied completely. Clarke kissed her clean and lifted her brow arrogantly.

Lexa could only give a satisfied laugh, exhaustion weighing her limbs. Clarke smiled genuinely, and crawled up to meet the woman. Like this, Lexa was warm and relaxed, her expressions slow, unguarded, and gentle as a breeze.

Looking over her, Clarke couldn’t stop the spark of affection that flitted through her chest. The blonde breathed deeply and settled on the bed. Lexa reflexively rolled and curled around her.

“You,” she started, “are concerningly proficient at that,”

Clarke laughed, pecking the woman’s lips, “I’ll chalk it up to natural talent. Just wait until we get some practice in,”

Lexa tried to quiet her cock’s interest in those words and let her mind be soothed by her recent release. Instead, she laughed with Clarke.

In soft darkness, Lexa roused herself enough to breathe bracingly and roll to the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing?”

Lexa paused, “I am leaving,”

“It’s midnight,”

“I realize,” she twisted to fix Clarke with a look, the blonde barely wrapped in sheets and a relaxed, interested look on her face, “We need to sleep, and I did not think it would be appropriate…”

Clarke’s smile twisted toward amused and exasperated.

“Appropriate. Sure,” Lexa nearly rolled her eyes at herself in agreement when Clarke spoke again.

“Well forget it. Stay here,”

“Stay?”

“Stay. I do require some semblance of aftercare, you know,”

Lexa gained this look on her face, and Clarke realized it was the face she made when she didn’t understand what Clarke was talking about, but wasn’t going to buckle and ask.

Still, Lexa acquiesced.

“Are you on duty tomorrow?”

Clarke huffed a laugh as Lexa settled on the bed, “Didn’t you make the duty roster?”

Lexa glared lightly, “I make it every week. I do not memorize it,”

Clarke smiled, “Speaking of, can I get next Wednesday off?”

“No,”

The blonde faux-gasped, “What? Are you trying to tell me that semi-sleeping together is getting me nothing?”

Lexa chortled into the pillow.

“I will tell you what, Clarke. Whenever you like, I will get you off. How about that?”

“Aw, you mean that?”

“Hm. I mean that,”

“A First Officer’s priorities, ladies and gentlemen,”

“Clarke?”

“Hm,”

“Please be quiet,”

“Come spoon me and I’ll be asleep in 60 seconds, I promise,”

The Varro breathed a chuckle and moved to fit her body behind the blonde’s. Clarke was small and warm, but softer than Lexa in many ways. She settled on her shoulder and nudged Clarke’s head.

“Lift,”

She slipped her arm under the woman’s head.

“God, you’re warm,” Clarke murmured contently. Lexa felt sexual satisfaction weigh her limbs as she relaxed into Clarke’s bed.

“Varro body temperature is somewhat warmer than humans,”

“Yeah,” Clarke breathed, “That’ll do it,”

“Mm,”

“Night, Lexa, thanks for the orgasm,”

Eyes closed, Clarke smiled as Lexa’s laughter rumbled into her back.

* * *

**Day: 27**

“Griffin,” Lexa called, “Would you like to look over these data metrics from the Andorians?”

Clarke nodded, gliding toward the Varro and squinting at the panels in front of her at the navigational conn on the bridge. She tapped around and started cross checking figures.

“Do you know if this is their final analysis?

“These are to feed into their proposed adjustments. They would not be offended to receive correction,” Lexa intoned lowly, watching Clarke work intently. She cast an eye around the bridge and carried on in the same tone, “That dress makes your breasts look fantastic,”

Clarke paused, her fingers still hovering over the screens. Lexa smoothly took over, her face unchanged. Slowly, Clarke smiled and resumed what she was doing.

“Yeah?”

Lexa hummed absently, “Yes. I keep thinking about what I can say to take you aside and pay more attention to them,”

“Oh my god,” Clarke breathes, biting her lip, “You’re flirting with me on duty,”

The taller woman lifted an eyebrow, “I got off duty twenty minutes ago,”

“Of course you did,” Clarke scoffed, subvocalizing her tone, her fingers flying, “Too bad you’ll have to wait another 5 hours to actually get off,”

“That,” Lexa wafted, “is not technically true,”

Clarke faltered.

“You’re going to masturbate?”

Lexa visually swept the bridge again, nothing of particular interest occurring. Several low conversations just like their own occurring around the perimeter. Well, almost like their own.

“It is possible,”

“No,” Clarke smoked, “It’s really not,”

The Varro made an affronted sound, “Oh?”

“Mhm,”

“And why is that?”

Clarke made a few taps of finality before turning to Lexa fully, an edge of danger in her eyes.

“Because you’re not allowed to,” professionalism crisped her voice, and her features were steady. Lexa faced her with perfected posture, hands behind her back. Clarke ran bedroom eyes over her for a millisecond before continuing, “Break that rule, and I’ll see that it’s your only option for the next month,”

Lexa lifted an eyebrow, “You would not,”

“Try me,”

The Varro ran cool eyes over the navigator, and Clarke’s lips turned up when she focused a second too long on her cleavage.

“Thank you for your assistance, Lt Commander,”

Clarke nodded.

“The pleasure is mine,”

Lexa’s jaw twitched.

“It certainly is,”

When she walked away, Clarke could only breathe deeply for long moments to prevent either an enormous grin, or a full bout of laughter. She cleared her throat and worked around the dirty thoughts circulating her head.

In 5 hours, Lexa was so dead.

* * *

**Day: 44**

“Clarke,”

Lexa looked surprised and happy to see her, and the blonde felt her lips curl in greeting.

“Hey,” she answered, nodding behind the Varro, “Think I could come in?”

“Of course,” Lexa answered easily, glancing around the deserted hallway. She shut the door and followed Clarke to her kitchenette, and the blonde threw her a glare.

“You never told me you could cook,”

Lexa cocked an eyebrow and crossed to attend to the stovetop, “I have many skills,”

Clarke laughed, winding her arms around the taller woman.

“I’ll say,” she curled, and Lexa simply smiled, not finding the heart to push Clarke off of her. Part of her wanted to inquire as to the reason for Clarke’s visit, and part of her assumed it was to relieve the navigator’s tension.

Instead, she said, “Would you like to eat with me?”

Clarke detached herself and nodded, stripping out of her uniform jacket.

“Absolutely. I need to see if shoving you out of bed to make breakfast will be worth it or not,”

Lexa glared, “You really should put that on a hangar. And you already do that, Clarke. I replicate the coffee every morning,”

The blonde strolled to her living space and paused from picking up the sketchpad she had left there.

“Lexa. Coffee is not breakfast. It’s pre-breakfast,”

The Varro rolls her eyes and smiles despite herself. Clarke grins triumphantly and settles on the couch to let her fingers fidget with creation. She frowns and looks around, huffing.

“What is wrong?” Lexa looks up and asks.

“Have you seen my pencil?”

The woman joins her in a scan of the room, also frowning.

“No, I am sorry. It is not with your book?”

“No,” the blonde worries her lip, unhappy. Lexa grimaces and takes the food from the heat, crossing to help Clarke look for her drawing utensil. The brunette knew Clarke only had three, and they were incredibly precious to her.

After a few minutes looking, Clarke waved her concern off. She smiled forgivingly, “It’s alright. I’ve got others. Let’s eat, yeah?”

Lexa nodded, “I am sure we will find it eventually, Clarke,”

The Varro took her hand without thinking and led her back to the kitchen’s small table, and Clarke smiled as Lexa obviously tried to cheer her through dinner. The blonde was grateful, and relaxed with her friend.

“I heard you caught a gravimetric shear earlier. I was very impressed. We could have been caught in it. You are very good, Clarke,”

Clarke gave a flattered smile.

“Thanks. Something about the proto-nebula’s pulse surges didn’t feel right,” she chewed thoughtfully, “Wait. Did you hear about it from Anya?”

Lexa gave an admonishing sort of smile, “Yes,”

Clarke laughed and tipped her head, “Am I in trouble?”

“You rerouted power from engineering to astrometrics without consulting anyone. You practically put a fingerprint on your crime,”

“Is that a yes?”

Lexa shifted, and drank from her wine glass.

“I told her I authorized it,”

Clarke perked, “You did?”

The Varro huffed and fixed Clarke with a piercing green gaze.

“Yes. But only because I knew you would not have done so without good reason,”

Clarke smiled slowly, “It was. In school, I studied protostar clusters until I couldn’t see straight. I promise it wasn’t just a hunch, Lex,”

“I know,”

Lexa went quiet, and Clarke watched her for a second. She reached across the table and twined her fingers through Lexa’s free hand. The brunette looked up, and Clarke smiled softly.

“I know you took a risk on me. Thank you,” she kissed the elegant knuckles briefly, and returned to her dinner, not letting go.

Lexa could only let her heart thump heavily in her chest, and calmly asked Clarke about the rest of her 8-hour shift.

* * *

**Day: 62**

“Lex?” Clarke called, her voice rusted and sleepy.

The brunette nearly groaned, her face aflame, “Shh,” she tried to whisper evenly, “It is nothing. Sleep, Clarke,”

The blonde rolled over and snuffled into her pillow before tugging on the back of Lexa’s shirt weakly.

“C’mere,” she sighed.

Lexa bit her lip, staring out into the dark. Carefully, she moved until she lay flat on her back, and her cock throbbed as her nipples were stimulated. Clarke’s scent was soft and cloying as she shuffled into her side, and a bare leg slipped over Lexa’s hip.

Settling, Clarke shifted just a touch forward, and felt an incredible hardness. She felt a light bulb go off in her head, and she smirked tiredly, her eyes still closed.

“Lex?” she gruffed, her voice sleep-thick and sexy.

Lexa was nearing chart-topping leveled of embarrassed. She cleared her throat.

“Yes?”

The blonde huffed out a chuckle and removed herself to push Lexa back over onto her side. Smoothly, she let her hand drift to where Lexa obviously needed help.

“Lemme,” Clarke muttered, her hand warm and soft around Lexa’s length, her fingertips not able to touch. She buried her face between Lexa’s shoulder blades and inhaled the clean, soft scent. Her hand twisted around to ensure she covered every bit of Lexa’s length as she stroked gently up and down.

Lexa gave a relieved shiver, and Clarke’s lips turned up.

Clarke went to the tip and thumbed over the head of Lexa’s cock, and without looking, Clarke knew she would be swollen and needy. The tender sponge tip was wet and she briefly considered bringing her fingers back to lick. Drawing circles into the slit of Lexa’s dick with her thumb, Clarke worked her hand back down, twisting efficiently.

The brunette’s hips jerked without purpose, and Clarke gave an audible breath of laughter this time. Lexa groaned and huffed until Clarke deigned to reassure her with a small kiss to the shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” she soothed. Lexa heaved a moan, and shuddered when Clarke readjusted to plant small, sucking kisses to the ridges of Lexa’s neck. She continued stroking Lexa’s cock, and the positioning made Clarke hum alongside the Varro. It felt natural and nice, pressed against Lexa’s body in all the right ways.

Clarke’s spent hypnotizing minutes working Lexa’s cock in all the right ways, and she sent sucking kisses to the woman’s neck. She hummed as Lexa gave a high whimper.

“Ready, baby?” she whispered, not thinking. Lexa reached behind her and held the blonde hair, nodding frantically.

Up and down, squeeze back up, down, up, and squeeze. Her semi-quick rhythm never faltered, and she smiled sleepily against Lexa.

“Okay,” she hushed, “Come, Lex,”

She did.

Lexa’s orgasm rattled them both, but soothed the Varro into a muscular, cuddling, expanse of body heat. Clarke laughed quietly at the woman, somehow not at all surprised.

Surreptitiously, Clarke wiped her forefinger over Lexa’s calming cock and slipped it into her mouth. Her mouth watered at Lexa’s essence, and the woman moaned before rolling over to trap Clarke in her arms.

“Stop that,” she grunted.

Clarke huffed a laugh, letting herself be held for the night.

* * *

**Day: 89**

Lexa’s head lazily twisted to look over at the blonde, comfortable against the pillows of her bed. She cocked an eyebrow.

“Humans?”

“Yeah,” Clarke said gamely, completely at ease, “What did you first think of us? Are you surprised anymore?”

Lexa seemed to consider this. Another moment, and she grinned.

“What?” Clarke asked, copying the movement.

Lexa shifted and rolled to her side, propping her head up, “My people secluded themselves from the rest of the galaxy in the generational ship, as you know. The elders were quite the xenophobes,” she rolled her eyes, and Clarke delighted in the playful disposition. The blonde turned over to face the woman as well, and Lexa continued.

“So I grew not knowing other cultures. After the split, and I joined Starfleet, the sheer quantity of how much _life_ I did not know was staggering. So, humans,” she smiled, “were quite the funny creatures at first,”

Clarke laughed.

“Yeah?”

Lexa nodded.

“Why?” the blonde pressed.

“Ow,” Lexa smiled.

Clarke smiled as well, confused, “What?”

“Ow,” Lexa slid, “It is the strangest habit of humans. You say it even when you have not been hurt, or even when confused if you have been hurt or not,”

The blonde couldn’t help but laugh as Lexa’s pleased smile followed, the Varro carrying on.

“Even seeming as biologically similar as we are, there is also one thing I cannot understand about humans - Sneezing,” Clarke kept laughing as Lexa spoke, “Sneezes are entirely involuntary, and absolutely adorable,”

Clarke’s mirth nearly sent her to curling into a ball. Lexa watched her with deep-felt happiness, and the blonde tried to calm.

“Well, fine! We sneeze!” she retorted through her mirth, “At least we don’t have cute little ears and weird ridges!”

Lexa looked offended.

“I will have you know, these ridges are entirely natural,” she grinned, “They are directly connected to my nervous system,”

“Are they really?” Clarke smirked, her arm slipping around Lexa’s waist.

Lexa nodded.

“So I guess they’re really… sensitive?” Clarke crooned, testing her fingertips over the slight raised edged of the horizontal markings. Whatever she had been expecting, it was not for Lexa to experience a full-body shiver.

“Whoa,” the blonde smirked, and Lexa’s green eyes opened enough to shoot her a half-irritated glare.

“That is a closely guarded secret of my people, Clarke,” she ground, fidgeting from the gentle caresses that echoed through her body, Clarke’s fingers delicate and lovely little strokes, “I trust you will use your new powers with responsibility,”

Clarke drawled a smile, absolutely loving the loss of control racking Lexa’s body, head to toe, “I wouldn’t dream of abusing it, Lex,”

The brunette could do nothing but give a chest-thrumming moan as Clarke started to give an effort toward more organized passes on the woman’s ridges, from Lexa’s bottom ribs to the top of her bum.

In something close to scientific fascination, Clarke tested different strokes and touches, and was delighted by each new discovery. Lexa was merely her incredibly sexy, very comfortable, test subject. One who was soon reduced to jelly.

Passes working up and down from top to bottom of Lexa’s spine produced elongated blinks, her eyelids mimicking the rhythm of the strokes. Large, spiraling circles around the vertebrae saw Lexa’s breathed exhale to time with each whirl. A tickling, wandering, creep from bottom to top made Lexa’s body tense and prickle, until reaching the top, Clarke rubbed two knuckles into her neck, and Lexa gave a great, shuddering movement of relief.

And presently, Clarke’s favorite reaction had been the one where she gave the dip in Lexa’s back, right at her kidneys, a good and firm stroking. Almost mimicking the pace Clarke would jerk her off, she massaged the sensitive ridges as Lexa gave a deep inhale, and her eyes opened as the delicate ears spilled over with a lovely red blush.

Clarke’s eyebrows rose at the familiar expression, and she looked down to see Lexa fully erect. She nearly gasped. As it were, she couldn’t help the slack-jawed smile that stole over her.

“Well that’s interesting,” she teased. Lexa groaned, her face burying in the pillow. Clarke couldn’t help but wonder, “Is that normal?”

The Varro shot her a scathing, red-faced glare.

“Yes,”

Clarke could only continue to grin, her fingers dancing lightly now, “Could I get you to come that way?”

Lexa huffed, “No,” she pouted, “It is a biological reflex, not a secondary sex organ,”

If Clarke was disappointed with this, she didn’t say anything, apparently perfectly content with this new discovery. Slightly guilty that Lexa was clearly no longer in the mood for sex but hard, Clarke dropped small kisses to the Varro’s face and reached to fondle Lexa’s balls.

The brunette sighed, her face flickering with relief. Clarke smiled gently down at her as Lexa rolled to her back in contentment. Almost instinctively, Clarke curled into her side and laid hot, licking kisses to her breasts.

In long, long moments later, after Clarke had cradled, massaged, and rolled the neat but heavy globes, she shifted to suck the very tip into her mouth wetly, and Lexa came with a spine-rattling curl and shiver. Clarke licked her lips thoroughly, and laid in a secret smile to the woman’s neck.

Looking down, Lexa gave Clarke a glassy smile.

“Thank you,” she murmured placidly, her eyes already closing. Clarke huffed a laugh.

“You know that if you come more than three times, you immediately pass out?”

Lexa’s brow furrowed in unspoken protest before slipping into sleep. Clarke couldn’t help but marvel at just how pretty she was. Lexa was a knockout, truly. Especially relaxed like this. Beautiful as she was, though, Clarke missed the woman’s eyes. The blonde bit her lip.

“Night, Lex,”

She cleaned them both off and then curled down into the sheets. Her nose skimmed the pillow, trying to get comfortable. Clarke frowned and looked over her shoulder. She huffed and rolled her eyes at herself.

Reaching backwards awkwardly, she found Lexa’s arm and tugged it over her body.

“Lex,” she gruffed, and the semi-unconscious Varro grumbled before taking responsibility of her weight. Lexa rolled and wrapped Clarke in a cocoon of muscular warmth.

The blonde-haired navigator finally sighed and relaxed.

* * *

**Day: 132**

“I do not think I will ever get tired of that,” Lexa hummed, kissing Clarke’s thigh. Clarke breathed deeply, her chest heaving and glistening with sweat. She smiled in deep-felt satisfaction and swiped at Lexa’s bottom lip, the Varro wrapping her lips around the digit.

“Any time you want, babe,” Clarke crooned, removing her cleaned finger and pulling Lexa to her feet by the stiff collar of her uniform.

The brunette smiled and laid a kiss to the woman. They were currently tucked into a corner on the top deck of Cargo Bay 2, out of sight, but not out of vocal range.

The Varro skimmed her nose along Clarke’s jaw, “Curious human tradition,” she murmured, “I am neither an infant or a small pig from a storybook. Why do you designate me a babe after sex?”

Lexa smiled against Clarke’s quiet laughter.

“You didn’t have bedroom names on the generational ship?” she whispered back, “I could go back to calling you ‘Starfleet’ if you want,”

The taller woman chuckled softly, her body humming with the satisfaction of inducing Clarke’s pleasure, “That,” she rusked, “will not be necessary. Although I feel insufficient. I have not crowned you with one,”

“Does that really bother you?” Clarke cocked an eyebrow. Lexa some times hammed up her foreign-ness to make Clarke laugh, but she sensed something flickering in the Varro’s eyes.

“Perhaps,” Lexa pondered, those eyes skimming Clarke’s seemingly flawless features, “Though if I were to name you, it would need to be star-related,”

The blonde smirked, “Isn’t that a little cliché?”

The Varro kissed Clarke delicately, their lips slow and fulfilled.

“The first thing I noticed about you,” she gentled, “other than your appalling propensity for too-strong liquor,” Clarke smiled against her lips, “were your eyes,”

Clarke fixed that blue, blue gaze on her now. Lexa considered her.

“They reminded me of binary pulsars,”

Clarke snorted quietly, “Nice,”

Lexa smiled, “When I was a lieutenant, I once encountered twin pulsars with such intense gravitational force, everything within fifty million kilometers was sucked in. They were beautiful, burned bright, and were incredibly dangerous,”

The blonde went quiet, watching Lexa watch her.

“That is how you look at me sometimes,” she carried on softly, “That is how I feel when you look at me. So I would name you Starbright, I think,”

Clarke could only wade into the calmness of the green, green eyes, and wished she were as well spoken.

“Lex-“

“Mess hall to Commander He’da,”

The sharp double chirp split the air, and just like that, the moment Clarke wanted to program a holodeck with and live in for a while, was rent in two. Lexa tapped her comm badge.

“Go ahead, Echo,”

“It seems there’s been a miscommunication regarding the mess hall duty roster. Are you available to assist?”

Clarke swiped a thumb over the Varro’s high cheekbone as she replied.

“I am. I will be there shortly,”

“Thank you. Mess, out,”

Once the line was cut, Lexa helped Clarke arrange her dress back to the appropriate state, as well as smoothing Lexa’s hair back into it’s usual arrangement of neatly twined braids.

“Did you want to do dinner tonight?” Clarke asked errantly, and Lexa nodded.

“I must oversee a few evaluations of the rest of the security department personnel, but I will be free by 2100,”

Clarke nodded, “Sounds about perfect. I’m on the bridge until then too,” she paused, hands in Lexa’s hair. She shot the woman an accusatory look.

“Did you match our duty rosters so we can…?” she made a vague hand gesture between the two of them.

Lexa managed to look slightly repentant.

“It is only efficient to have certain teams on similar schedules,”

Clarke laughed, fully and outright.

“That’s the hottest, sneakiest thing I’ve ever heard of. Well done,”

Lexa smiled demurely.

“Until tonight,”

“Yeah,”

When they went their separate ways, Clarke couldn’t help but break out into small fits of giggling at the helm.

* * *

**Day: 182  **

“Captain, we’re detecting a vessel off the port bow,” Murphy in Ops drawled.

Lexa lifted a brow from her command chair, “Octavia, can we scan for life signs?”

“It’s odd, Commander,” the woman rattled off, from Indra’s usual post, “We began scans, but were interrupted part way by a surge of ion disruption. We logged 5 before losing readings,”

“Captain, we’re being hailed,” Lexa called.

“On screen,” Anya replied.

The next moment, a fierce-looking alien with prominent, frowning clefts in their mouth and sloping their foreheads. Reptilian, dark brown skin shifted over vicious, intelligent eyes.

“This is the Captain Anya Triged of the Federation starship Ambassador,” Anya introduced.

“I am Y’Sek. You have been chosen as prey for a Hazari hunting party,” the alien rumbled, “You have 2 hours. Provide an entertaining hunt,”

The view screen cut out, and the bridge was silent before Anya moved.

“Commander He’da, call a senior officer’s meeting to the briefing bay,”

“Aye, Captain,”

Anya swept from the bridge and to the turbolift, Lexa following smoothly.

“Lieutenant Murphy, you have the bridge,” Anya called to the Ornarian at Operations, who nodded. The pair of women entered the lift and met the other officers in the briefing room.

Anya planted her hands flat on the tabletop, standing tensely.

“What have we got?”

Indra started in, listing the concerning firepower that far outmatched their own, not to mention their technology, in the Hazari favor.

“Scans indicate that their shields would prevent a beam out, but a beam inside the ship is perfectly viable,” she continued lowly, battle in her eyes, “I suggest commandeering the ship,”

Wells frowned, “That’s an entire starship. Do we have the man power for something like that?”

“We do,”

“No,” Anya resolved, halting discussion, “We are not a Federation of invaders. We have not expired a diplomatic solution,”

Indra seemed to gnash her teeth, “With all due respect, Captain, the Hazari show no signs of wanting diplomacy,”

Lincoln chimed in, “Their tactics are that of wolves, Captain. Hazari are known to be bounty hunters,”

The woman didn’t react.

“Captain, we need a diversion,” Clarke started emphatically, “Something to draw the Hazari’s interest away,”

“What do you suggest?” the Ruji offered.

“If we can board their vessel, as suggested, but with a smaller element, we could cause enough internal disruption-“

Lexa cut in, speaking for the first time, “There would be no viable extraction plan. The craft would be cloaked in the Hazari shields,”

“It’s too dangerous,” Anya nodded, pursing her lips.

After half an hour of debate, Anya had rejected all proposals but to attempt diplomacy. Clarke had glared at Lexa throughout the entire ordeal, bursting from the bay when Anya dismissed them. The Varro spared thoughts toward the blonde’s behavior, but swept off to attend to her newly-assigned duties.

An hour later, and Lexa flexed her jaw in the turbolift. She was supposed to be on her way to engineering to assess damage projections, but her mind roamed on a loop.

“Computer,” she called clearly, “Locate Lt. Commander Griffin,”

The computer beeped and replied obediently, “Lt. Commander Clarke Griffin is in the astrometrics laboratory,”

Lexa frowned.

“Computer, reroute to astrometrics,”

“Affirmative,”

The lift reversed, and Lexa’s jaw worked in worry. Arriving, the doors parted for her, and she found Clarke working away at the interface of the large lab. She looked up and huffed.

“Yes, Commander?”

Lexa frowned at the blonde’s testy greeting.

“What are you doing, Lt. Commander?”

Clarke grit her teeth, not stopping the flight of her fingers.

“I’m trying to reverse the ion-distortion of their shields. If I send out random, subspace energy pulses at the theta-radiation level, I think I can open a hole in their shields,”

Lexa immediately tensed.

“Clarke, shut it down,”

The blonde glared, “I’m not sending anything, I just want to show Anya that it’s possible to beam back,”

“I said shut it down, Clarke,” Lexa pressed.

The scientist narrowed her eyes, “I get that you want to stick to Anya’s guns, but Lexa, you know this could work!”

“Of course it could, that is brilliant,” the Varro gained an urgent look in her eyes and glanced over the readings, “But it also means that if you are sending out active fluctuations at any rate of interval, the Hazari will be able to track you!”

Clarke startled at Lexa’s tone, and realized she was right. With a bite to her pride, she reached to pull the power-lever down. Except, her hand passed through it. She snapped a look up to Lexa, who had gone pale, and then to her hand and arm, the color draining. Her stomach churned with dread as she realized she was being energized.

“Clarke!” Lexa panicked. She then did the only thing she could think of, and jumped to wrap her arms around Clarke’s still solid torso. She shut her eyes and hoped the Hazari’s transporter technology was powerful enough to reassemble her atoms on the other side.

In a blink, Lexa’s opened her eyes once more, her body buzzing in the unpleasant way that beaming induced. She found herself holding Clarke, in the middle of what looked like some sort of cargo bay.

“Shit,” Clarke whispered.

Lexa released her and tried to think.

“We are most likely on the Hazari ship,”

Clarke nodded, looking around. She tapped her comm badge.

“Griffin to Triged,” silence met her call, and she tried again, “Griffin to Ambassador. Can anyone hear me?”

“The Hazari shields most likely block any outgoing signals, communication included,”

Clarke bit her lip, “Okay, well. If we can’t contact them, we can’t ask for direction. So, we’ll have to wing it. Ideas?”

Lexa grimaced, “Our best chance is to find their shuttlecraft or emergency evacuation pods,”

“And hope Ambassador picks us up?”

“No,” Lexa breathed, “In hopes that it will confuse them, and provide the Ambassador time to run,”

Clarke watched her, the steadiness of sacrifice in her eyes. Hadn’t Lexa already proved she was ready to die, just from grabbing onto Clarke mid-beam? The blonde cleared her throat.

“I agree with the ‘get the hell out of here’ idea. If this is the cargo bay, then the dock shouldn’t be too far,” she considered, “From what I saw of their ship’s design before scans were cut, they launch from below the ship. So either way, we have to go down,”

Lexa considered this and walked to one of the walls in the cargo bay. She felt around, and Clarke joined her, tapping at different sections lightly.

“Lex, here,” she pointed to a spot on the floor, “I’d bet all the candles on Vulcan that this is a Jefferies tube,”

The Varro nodded. She then stripped off her Starfleet blouse, and wrapped one wine-red edge over her hand. Lexa knelt in her soft grey shirt, and breathed.

Clarke watched in fascination as Lexa took a moment, and then punched an honest to God hole in the deck floor. The brunette continued to kneel and use her uniform top to cover her hands protectively as she grunted and peeled away sections of the floor.

The blonde’s mouth hung, and Lexa only looked at her once she had opened a large portion of the deck up. The Varro twisted her lips.

“You were right. It is a Jefferies tube,”

Clarke took her hand and saw it completely intact, her jacket ripped and shredded. She breathed.

“That was insanely hot,”

Lexa lifted a brow and nodded. She slipped her wiry frame into the hole, and helped Clarke down. They lay on their stomachs, but fit side by side in the maintenance shaft.

Clarke squinted at the electronic readings in the walls and whispered.

“Can you read this script?”

Lexa nodded, also lowering her voice, “Yes. This is a power relay channel. If we wanted to die very soon, we could cut energy to all weapons and scanning systems,”

“Well, then, let’s save that one for later, yeah?”

“Mm,”

“Any idea what direction?”

Lexa looked behind her, “It would be most productive to head toward the center of the ship. Eventually, there will be an intersecting Jefferies room,”

“And hopefully, a schematic,”

“Yes,”

“Right,” Clarke braced, “We’ve got roughly 30 minutes until the Hazari start hunting. Let’s travel even further into their ship,”

“Sarcasm is unbecoming,”

Clarke managed to hold in a snort of laughter, and she started crawling forward. Eventually, they managed to find the room, and Lexa translated their directions to the Hazari launch bay. Miraculously, the bay and shuttlecraft was devoid of life signs.

Quickly, they boarded the shuttle and noticed the spacious interior. Clearly meant for long durations of occupancy, there was a bed-like space on one side and a food preparation area on the other.

Lexa nodded toward the controls and Clarke followed her.

“So,” the woman settled, “I think our only option here is probably to die. Question is, how, and can we save the Ambassador while we do it?”

Lexa blinked.

She turned her attention to the controls, reading the holoscreens. Lexa cleared her throat.

“Can you duplicate the process you were programming the astrometrics sensors to do?”

Clarke looked over the panels, “I think so,” a few moments passed, the women working fluidly in conjunction.

“Alright, I can get it to work, but only for a short amount of time,”

“How short?”

Clarke bit her lip, “I’d have to reroute power from the warp core and use one burst,”

A flexed jaw, “How short, Clarke?”

“6 seconds,”

Lexa let out a rare, soft curse. She breathed deeply.

“This shuttle craft has exactly one photon torpedo, and low grade firepower,” she steeled, “It is clearly a scouting vessel,”

Clarke breathed, “Okay. So we fire whatever we can at the Hazari to distact them, and head away from Ambassador. What, exactly, is the point of the ion-stabilization?”

Lexa continued to punch at the panel, “Contingency. Are you ready, Clarke?”

The blonde nodded, “Okay if I’m at the helm?”

“Of course. Your flight records are very impressive,”

“Lexa?”

“Yes?”

And then Clarke kissed her. Dragged forward by her shirt, Lexa nearly fell from her chair, but immediately rushed into the powerful kiss. They exchanged bruising, wet licks and passes of their lips.

Lexa pulled backwards with a gasp, her eyes open and staring into Clarke’s.

“Clarke, I-… Clarke,“

“Lex,” she swallowed, and the Varro nodded. She took a fortifying breath and straightened.

“Whenever you are ready, I will open the doors,”

“Okay. Buckle up. Let’s do this,”

In a fluid movement, the shuttle craft lifted, and the dock doors parted, Lexa furiously overriding the red alert the Hazari sent up. Jolting forward, Clarke was able to slip the craft through the gap, and shot out into space. Immediately, Lexa shifted to revert power to defense as Hazari photons open fired.

“Shields at 90%. Hazari photons vs Hazari shields aren’t very destructive,”

“Great,” Clarke grit, a sensor beeping urgently, “Shit,” she slapped at it, “Switching to manual controls,”

The craft shook, and Lexa grunted.

“Hazari main effort is attempting to hail us, give me range to start firing,”

“A minute, Lex,”

Lexa nodded and pressed several buttons that Clarke was confused about, but ignored.

“Okay, we’re clear. You’ll have to lock sights manually, I’m starting evasive maneuvers,”

“Roger,”

Lexa swiveled and moved, clicking and chirping at the conn.

“We have a lock,”

“Beautiful,” Clarke grunted, her focus razor sharp, “A few more minutes of being annoying as shit, and I think they’ll bite,”

“This is Commander Al’Lexa He’da,” she suddenly heard Lexa speak crisply, her hands flying, “Ambassador, we have a lock on you, please energize the sent coordinate immediately,”

Clarke gasped, “Lexa, what are you-“

“Lexa! We’ve got you!” Anya’s voice scattered through the shuttle.

The Varro immediately unclipped her seat and ran from the controls. Clarke’s mind snapped into place, and for the second time in two hours, her hand went clear, the buzzing of energizing filtering into her chest.

“No, no, no!” she screamed, “Lexa!”

It was dangerous, and stupid, but Clarke had no choice. She slammed her hand on the emergency communications shut down. Her hand rematerialized, and she used it to frantically engage the warp core. The shuttle readily stretched space and time, and they were gone.

She panted, unbuckling her seat and standing.

Clarke could practically feel the anger coming from the back of the craft, and she felt a roiling black take over her own heart. She pushed off of the conn and turned, Lexa standing tall and furious, her jaw working.

They simply existed for tense, choking moments.

And then, when Clarke refused to acknowledge her, the Varro spoke, her voice throaty and tight.

“Clarke,” Lexa started, trying to gain the woman’s attention. The blonde simply swallowed, not wanting to look at her. She trailed her fingers over the walls of the Hazari’s shuttlecraft.

“Why,” she ground out, her voice too light and hard all in one. She swallowed, “Why did you do that?”

Lexa frowned and cocked her head, “I did what needed to be done,”

Clarke’s chest heated at the blasé nature of Lexa’s honest answer.

“How can you say that? What part of that was protocol? What part of that was ‘what needed to be done’?”

With an equal amount of heat, Lexa finally allowed her face to darken and she ground out harshly.

“Do not lecture me about protocol. Your actions were nowhere near warranted,”

“Warranted? How about preventing the destruction of our entire ship?” Clarke cried, her jaw grit.

“By sacrificing yourself?” Lexa scorned, “We both know this shuttle will fall out of warp in 3 hours or less, and then the Hazari will capture, torture, and kill us, if we are lucky,”

“You hypocrite! You’ve tried to kill yourself _twice_ so far!”

“Unacceptable,” Lexa growled, “You have responsibility to the crew to be a team. You are under the Captain’s orders as indispensible. I have a position that is routinely replaced. Running rouge is not permitted for you. You are not allowed to throw your life away,”

Clarke glared stormily at the Varro, and Lexa’s jaw clenched and released in impatient twists. Unspoken waves of hot, streaking, fear-laced concern gripped the two as they stared at each other.

“Well, if you and I are going to die in the next three hours, we’re going to spend half of it doing what I want to do,” Clarke’s hands went to her side, “Take your clothes off,”

The Varro’s anger bled out of her and she was left with nothing left to do but watch, her eyes widening at the woman’s meaning. Clarke nearly snapped.

“Take your fucking clothes off, Lexa,”

Beautiful, apparently, but slow. The blonde rolled her eyes as Lexa clumsily stripped herself of her uniform, unsure of what to do with her shirt. In stockings and her underwear, Clarke crossed to the woman and threw the top to the floor.

She glared darkly, and Lexa let the woman manhandle her trousers. In a similar fashion, she was soon completely nude, her brain still slow. It took an irritated look from Clarke as the blonde stripped her own panties and finally, her bra, that brought Lexa into consciousness.

“Clarke,” the woman grit, her emerald eyes drinking the woman in. Her cock was swelling, and she could catch hints of Clarke’s lovely wetness in the air, “Are you sure?”

The blonde stepped into Lexa’s space and kissed her, fully and filthily, her flat stomach grinding on the underside of Lexa’s prick.

“I’m not going to die without knowing what this feels like,” she panted. Lexa stared between the glittering blue eyes, and her jaw tightened, her heart double timing. Clarke watched the resolve melt through Lexa’s green eyes with joy and something close to fear.

Slowly, the Varro turned her and guided her backwards toward the Hazari’s sleeping area. Clarke’s knees buckled, and she shifted backwards to make room, never breaking eye contact with Lexa.

She suddenly felt shy. Like this was much more than she realized. She and Lexa had coaxed hundreds of orgasms from the other, but with Lexa squarely on top of her, naked flesh pressing to every inch of her own with such intention, it was overwhelming. Clarke licked into Lexa’s mouth, and they contented themselves with deep kissing for a while. Every pass of their tongues, teeth, lips, was hot and building, and Clarke finally tucked one of her legs under the woman to cradle Lexa properly between her thighs.

Her fingers dug into Lexa’s shoulders, and the Varro smoothed more kisses down Clarke’s neck. Clarke gasped and breathed as Lexa’s cock brushed between her legs.

“Lex,”

Lexa simply hummed gutturally. She rocked her hips to press her dick flat against Clarke’s sex, and they harmonized small moans. Lexa swayed and arched her hips slowly, coating her cock in Clarke’s glistening wetness. Looking down, her prick shone with her own lubricant and Clarke’s, and her eyes went flat and hungry at the sight.

“Don’t you dare,” Clarke warned, and Lexa’s eyes shot to the lust-fueled cerulean. She couldn’t help but gift a laugh.

“Excuse me,”

“Not today, I won’t,” Clarke shot, “Focus,”

“Mm,”

A brief moment, and Lexa finally dipped down to feel the softest, wettest part of the blonde. Clarke groaned as her entranced was teased, and she lifted her legs to press her heels to Lexa’s arse encouragingly.

“Relax,” Lexa whispered, and gently drove forward.

Clarke gasped.

She had imagined Lexa inside her many times. Sometimes errantly, sometimes seriously, sometimes erotically wistfully. But only now did she truly appreciate what she had missed out on for months.

Because Lexa slid inside her with strength, and elegance, and an iron desire to stay exactly as deep as possible. And fucking shouldn’t be described that way, but that’s how Lexa felt inside of her.

Clarke gave a lovely shudder of an inhale, and Lexa shivered. Clarke felt wonderful inside. All the slick heat of soft, choking sex that her fingers had felt, now a hundred fold around her cock. She felt her heart pound, and the deep glow of what could only be her _olan’vora_ chimed.

Still, Lexa panted and pushed the feeling down, finally connecting her hips flush to Clarke’s spread thighs. Almost blind, Clarke reached for the Varro, and they kissed even deeper than before. Clarke had to breathe with the utmost control, Lexa’s stretch mind-numbingly wonderful inside of her, and she wanted every breath to contain Lexa.

Carefully, she rocked her hips upwards, and Lexa caught her hint. It took long moments, and Lexa felt like exploding, but Clarke nearly cried with happiness at the woman’s gentle handling of her. Once Lexa had worked Clarke into relaxation, she was able to pull out and back in fully. And all bets were off.

“Lexa,” the blonde hoarsed, “Lex, oh god, Lex!-“

The brunette thrust in increasingly powerful drives. Her cock was choked in suffocating tightness and warmth every time she entered Clarke, and with Clarke’s body so smooth and beautiful, and hers for the tasting, she was worried about spending on her too quickly.

Thankfully, it was a feeling Clarke shared.

Lexa’s cock split her so well, so deeply, so quickly. Clarke ran her hands through her own hair, through Lexa’s, around her back. She held Lexa’s breasts, rolling and delighting in the press of Lexa’s skin against hers. But the pressure Lexa’s cock was building inside her was amazing.

She couldn’t stop the stream of babbling she let loose once her jaws pried apart, “Lexa, fuck- I- I’m so close!”

The Varro only breathed and grunted, trying not to whine. Clarke’s sex was constricting around her dick and she knew it was only a matter of keeping rhythm until Clarke came.

And when Clarke finally found the edge of ecstasy, she willingly jumped into oblivion. Her cunt tightened, and Lexa was forced to stay put and grind into the woman gently but deeply. Clarke’s fingernails dug refreshingly into her shoulders, and her body bowed as waves of orgasm quaked through her.

Her breathing was stopped, and the gasp she sounded out when she came down was like breathing in new life.

“Holy shit,” she keened, her eyes opening, breathing heavily. Lexa merely watched her in stupefied awe. Clarke captured the Varro’s face between her hands and kissed the woman strongly, “Fuck, Lex, can we do that again?” she pled.

“Clarke,” Lexa groaned. Whether is was admonishment, begging, or just something to say, Clarke didn’t know. But the blonde pushed it out of her mind as she twisted to top the woman.

Lexa’s cock sank even deeper inside of her, and she arched her back with a deep shudder, the Varro’s cockhead pressing against something deeply pleasurable. Lexa sat up and suckled at Clarke’s nipple, her other hand rounding on the other breast.

“Fuck! Lexa,” Clarke moaned and praised all at once, rocking her hips. It was nearly embarrassing, but she couldn’t stop herself. Months of built up curiosity and care for the Varro poured out in her final moments of existence.

“I’m gonna,” she whimpered, her orgasm banking and rising threateningly again, “Lexa, hold me,”

Wrapped in Lexa’s iron strength, Clarke shattered through another orgasm and nearly let tears well into her eyes. Lexa groaned into Clarke’s throat, her cock squeezed hotly, and she rutted mindlessly into the warmth.

Just as a whimper slipped past the blonde’s clenched teeth, Lexa flex Clarke’s relaxed body spasm in a clench, and she withdrew from inside her. Air hit her wet dick, and she gave a small whine of need.

Clarke’s mind pieced back together as she fell sideways on the circular bed, Lexa’s arms still caged around her. She shifted to lift her leg over Lexa’s hip, and the Varro caught her thigh. Their mouths met with deep-throated groans, and Lexa’s hips flexed forward searchingly. Her cock caught, and Lexa pushed back inside, the two sharing relieved huffs of heated air.

“Clarke,” she gasped against the woman’s panting mouth, “Clarke. I need-,” she whined a kiss to Clarke’s lips, and the blonde soothed a hand against her cheek, “I need to-. _Clarke_ ,”

“I know,” the woman murmured, “I know, baby,” her mind spun out as Lexa’s eyes opened and she couldn’t keep her lips off of her long enough to speak. They ground against the other, contorting against the bed to keep a steady, lovely pace.

“You can,” Clarke gasped, “inside. I’m-ah! It’s okay, Lex. Inside,”

Lexa nodded, pressing her forehead against Clarke’s. She suddenly gave a deep-chested burst of a growl, and moved back on top of Clarke, freeing their movement.

She pulled deeper into her thrusts, and Clarke twined her fingers in the woman’s hair. Clarke felt Lexa’s hips jog erratically and knew she was about to come. Even the thought of Lexa inside of her, coming, was enough to send electricity from her tightened cunt to the rest of her body.

“Clarke!” Lexa gasped, her cock choked inside the blonde. At this, Lexa let herself spill. Her dick throbbed and heaved, and she gave jerking, harsh drives of her hips as her cock exploded with pleasure. Clarke’s hot walls seemed to milk her of every ounce she had.

It was long, shuddering moments later, and Lexa finally relaxed her electrified body back to Clarke. Only then did she realize that blue eyes had watched her the entire time, and soft hands caressed her back and neck.

“Clarke,” she murmured deeply, and the blonde couldn’t help but smile contentedly.

“We should have done that a lot more,” she whispered.

Lexa found the strength to let laughter rock through her. Clarke pushed gently from underneath the Varro, and Lexa tipped onto her side. She felt her cock slowly soften, and Clarke gave an unintentional grimace of displeasure when Lexa withdrew.

Lexa kissed her consolingly, and they lay in quiet comfort for long minutes. They didn’t speak, and Clarke was grateful for it. It was very much like Lexa to wait for her to make the first move. It was the only way to ensure Clarke was comfortable.

Just as she went to open her mouth, a sensor in the shuttle beeped. Lexa twisted her head and rose to her elbow to observe a panel on the wall. She frowned.

“It is… a hail,”

Clarke matched her concerned expression, and their situation rocked them back into the present. Lexa handed the woman the clothes she could find, and Clarke did the same.

Quickly, Lexa arranged herself and sat at the helm. Clarke fixed her hair as Lexa adjusted several settings. Then, Raven’s voice filtered in through the shuttle.

“-read? This is the Ambassador. Do you read? Please come in, this is the USS Ambassador,”

“Raven!” Clarke crowed, relief exploding inside her chest, “What’s going on?”

The Betazoid minced no words, “Clarke! Holy shit am I glad to hear you. As soon as your shuttle craft took off, the Hazari turned to chase. When they did, they revealed a second ship that was feeding their shields its power, like an external energy source. Indra convinced the Captain that abducting you was an act of aggression and we destroyed it. The main ship fell out of warp and we were able to immobilize them. Are you guys alright? Is Lexa aboard?”

“I am here, and we are well,” Lexa called.

Raven sighed, “Beautiful. Alright, I’m going to report to the Captain. I’m sending you our location. Can you make it back? We figured out comms, but we can’t beam you out,”

“I can pilot this thing, no problem,” Clarke chimed, seating herself swiftly and touching various controls.

“Right. I’ll see you aboard,”

“Good to hear your voice, Raven,”

The woman laughed and signed off. As Clarke set a course, she turned to glance at Lexa. The Varro’s jaw was set, and Clarke wanted badly to reach and take her hand. Lexa sent her a searching, searing look.

Clarke could only return her look, letting the Varro see whatever she wanted. In moments and a swift movement, Lexa had stood and leaned over her, capturing Clarke’s face in both of her hands and supplying her lips with her own.

Clarke dropped a hand from the helm to work into Lexa’s hair, and her thumb pet at the woman’s pretty ear tenderly. She breathed in Lexa’s firm actions, and opened her mouth to suck at the woman’s bottom lip soothingly.

When they separated, Lexa simply sat down once more, and started to retrieve data from the Hazari shuttlecraft. On approach to Ambassador, Clarke cleared her throat, and Lexa cast a neutral look at her.

“I uh, I don’t intend to file my report with any kind of lens, Lexa,” she steeled her nerves, “I know what I did, and you were right. Besides, I wouldn’t want to risk anything I’ve done to reflect on you,”

The brunette worked her jaw and nodded.

“I appreciate that, Clarke. But,” her tone grew careful, “Would you be amenable to arranging your report in my quarters? I plan to narrate exactly the series of events, and our actions, with… clarity, regarding the correct context they were made in,” her eyes remained passive, “It would be efficient to compose our reports in conjunction, for the sake of accuracy,”

Clarke felt her heart heave, and she breathed deeply. Oddly enough, the urge to cry overcame her. But Lexa was gazing at her, steady and strong, and Clarke could only swallow and nod.

“And for efficiency’s sake,” she tried slowly, “I suppose eating beforehand would help us remain focused? I could bring dinner?”

Lexa’s eyes lightened, and she glanced back to the conn, “I agree wholeheartedly,” she cleared her throat, “And Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

Lexa fixed her with a gaze that had never been more fragile, and Clarke felt her skin burn, her spine chilling and warming all at once.

“Stay with me tonight?”

She didn’t look away.

“Okay,”

* * *

**Day: 210**

“So! What’s going on with you?” Raven asked.

“Yeah,” Octavia cheered, “You’ve been in a weirdly good mood. Are you doing something nerdy in astrometics?”

They were off duty, and currently enjoying an Italian bistro on holodeck 5.

Clarke bit her lip, looking at her open minded friends. She set her cup of coffee down and fixed them with blue-plated stares.

“I’m sleeping with Lexa,”

The air cleared of sound, and the women blinked at her. Another moment passed.

“Holy shit, that’s awesome,” Octavia gaped. Raven looked stunned.

Octavia grasped Clarke’s arm desperately, “Clarke, you have to tell me. Does she call you Lt. Commander Griffin in bed?” she gasped, “Does she have a manual for how to fuck? Oh my god, please tell me she schedules report briefings afterward?

Raven was nearly crying to keep from laughing at her friend, and Clarke could only scoff. How was she supposed to explain Lexa? How in the hell could she make her friends see that Lexa was… all of the things Lexa was.

The short answer, she realized, is that she couldn’t. And so she took the easy route. Clarke gave a small, slightly perverse, smile.

“Well, she’s nothing if not professional,”

Octavia stared at her, “And hot. She’s also really hot,”

“Yeah, super hot,” Raven agreed, her vision going into middle space. Clarke rolled her eyes, huffing slightly.

“Trust me, I’m disgustingly aware. It’s hard enough to focus on senior officer briefings already,”

Octavia chortled.

“So, you’re just sleeping together?” Raven asks suspiciously, her black Betazoid eyes narrowed.

Clarke nodded slowly, breathing.

“What?” Octavia called, frowning slightly.

“You like her,” Raven accused.

“We’re… friends,” the blonde managed. Octavia and Raven exchanged a concerned look.

“Friends?”

“Friends,”

“What does that mean?” Raven asked skeptically.

“O, how many people have you slept with since we left?” Clarke started in, and the handsome brunette blinked, counting silently for a moment. Raven wrinkled her nose at whatever she was sensing from the woman, and Clarke stifled a laugh.

After a few moments, the woman gave a self-satisfied nod.

“A lot,”

Clarke burst out laughing, and her friends relaxed into their own chuckles. Clarke nodded.

“It’s like that. Just… the same person,”

Octavia twitched an eyebrow, “You mean you haven’t slept with anyone else?”

“Not recently,” Clarke shrugged, “It’s just sex and respect. If Lexa takes care of the sex part well enough, I’ve got no reason to look for more,”

Raven merely watched her friend, while Octavia continued to delight in Clarke’s regular orgasms. The blonde was emitting a strange blend of colors and feelings. The Betazoid focused intently, dissecting each layer.

Superficially, there was discomfort. But like tracing the branches of a tree, she looked for the roots. Discomfort lead to fear. Fear, to vulnerability. Vulnerability to kindness. And kindness… she sucked in a small breath and felt her heart flicker for her friend.

Clarke’s eyes snapped to the Betazoid, and she realized that Raven had found the wealth of affection that resided in her heart. Silently, she begged the woman to stop, and Raven gave a forgiving but confused sigh.

Her friend had baggage, and all she really wanted was for her to be happy. She shrugged.

“Well, if this is why Lexa let me head up engineering as the second in command, all I’ve got to say is thank you, Clarke,” she grinned and winked. Octavia laughed as the blonde dipped her head regally.

Clarke smiled, glancing at Octavia.

“So how many is ‘a lot’, exactly?”

The woman grinned.

* * *

**Day: 297**

“I cannot stand that man,” Lexa growled as soon as the turbolift doors closed.

Clarke nearly winced. This was the closest she had ever seen to Lexa losing her shit. The Varro was nearly calling for blood, wrath rolling off of her in waves.

“I know. I definitely understand,” Clarke tried, watching the numbers of the lift, “We’re gonna unwind, alright? I already had a holodeck reserved,”

Lexa gave a deep, shuddering breath, her eyes closed as she tried to focus. Clarke laid a hand against Lexa’s far side, her body momentarily pressed to Lexa’s in a poor excuse for a consoling hug. Still, the Varro gave a small sound of acceptance and thanks.

On arrival, the blonde addressed the holodeck panel.  

“Computer,” Clarke called, her eyes on Lexa, “Initiate holodeck program Griffin 1-2,”

Short chirps, and a pull of her hand later, and Lexa breathed deeply at her surroundings. The air around them shimmers as Lexa found herself standing with Clarke in a grassy overlook, a beautiful bay spread out under their vantage point.

Lexa looked around in approval.

“Where are we?”

Clarke breathed in the scent of clean, water-rich air, “Stanley Park. Vancouver. The first holodeck I ever programmed by myself in the Academy,”

The Varro’s posture was relaxed as she observed the clear sky and people milling back and forth along the park’s walkways.

“My first holodeck was for hand to hand combat practice,”

Clarke snorted lightly and led the way along the paved road. Lexa smiled smally and followed at a leisurely stroll.

“I guess that’s two completely different ways of dealing with shit coworkers. A walk in a park, or holographically beating the hell out of them,”

Lexa gave a quiet smile of guilt.

“This is a peaceful place. Have you been here on Earth?”

As Clarke started to talk about her childhood, Lexa’s mind eased more and more. She lost herself in prompting the blonde to continue, and the steady, slow pace of their walk soothed her.

After a while, they passed a bench where a handsome man stood, an expression of surprise and happiness on his well-designed features.

“Clarke?”

The blonde suddenly went pink in the cheeks, and she bit her lip.

“He-ey, Damien,” she allowed herself to be bear-hugged, and the man kept an arm around her shoulders for a second too long. Clarke cleared her throat and shifted.

“Lex, this is Damien,” she waved awkwardly. Damien’s smile didn’t waver, his head nodding airily.

“Nice to meet you, Lex,” he greeted wholesomely. Lexa stiffened, her eyes unimpressed.

“Al’Lexa He’da,” she intoned, “Al’Lexa”

Damien blinked, but his smile reappeared, “Yeah, of course,” he looked to Clarke, “So how have you been, Clarke? I’ve really missed you, you know,”

Clarke gave a small chuckle, “I’m… good. I’ve been busy,” she grimaced, glancing toward Lexa’s increasingly annoyed expression. This was not what the Varro wanted to see directly after having to deal with Bellamy. Still, she and Damien went way back.

“That’s great,” the man said, taking a half step closer and catching her forearm, “I’m glad to hear you’re good. Would you want to maybe get some coffee?”

Lexa didn’t explode. She merely slipped a hand around Clarke’s, twining their fingers together and chilled, “I am sorry Damien, you will have to excuse us. Clarke already has plans,”

The man dropped Clarke’s arm at the look Lexa gave him. He swallowed.

“Uh, yeah,” his eyes turned remorseful as he met Clarke’s eyes again, “I guess I’ll see you later?”

Lexa narrowed her eyes as he dared to sound hopeful.

“I would not count on it. Have a pleasant day,”

Following Lexa’s lead, Clarke waved goodbye to Damien and continued to walk, Lexa’s hand laced with her own. She bit her lip. Her stomach bubbled in the urge to squeal in delight and laughter, but she settled for sending Lexa a curiously amused look.

Poor Lexa. Still.

“Did you just get jealous of a hologram?”

Lexa shifted commandingly.

“No,”

Clarke practically purred, “Oh,”

Lexa paused her walk at the suddenly deepened tone. Clarke carried on, low and innocent.

“What a shame,”

The brunette flattened a hungry look toward the blonde, and Clarke smiled wickedly. Lexa ground her teeth together, and tried desperately to cool her mind. The way Clarke was looking at her as she slowly reached for her own dress’ neckline had her abandoning the effort almost at once.

“You know, I’ve always liked the idea of you fucking me in front of Bellamy on top of the conn,”

Lexa’s eyes went nearly black, and Clarke suppressed a shiver as the brunette slowly advanced toward her, the Varro’s voice a pooling fluidity of sexuality.

“That,” she growled, “can be arranged,”

“Computer,” Clarke rusks, “Initiate new holodeck program. Title, ‘Griffin He’da 1’. Manifest video stream of bridge activities one hour ago,”

A double chirp, and their surroundings morphed into an exact replica of the Ambassador’s bridge. Various Lieutenants and Ensigns bustled around the perimeter, monitoring and adjusting schematics. Anya was consulting with Indra at Security, and Bellamy was lounging in his chair predictably.

Clarke crossed to where she and Lexa had been standing, their replicas perfect.

“Computer,” she called, focusing on the pair, “Delete characters,” in a blink, the two had disappeared, “Begin simulation,”

At the sight of them both, Bellamy flicked a lazy nod to Lexa, and Clarke saw the woman tense, just as she had an hour ago.

“Commander,” Bellamy noted, then his lips curled, eyes going hungry, “Clarke,”

And just like before, Clarke cocked her head, throwing a placating glance to Lexa. The Varro’s face didn’t move, but her posture was the too-perfect of concealed fury.

“Blake,” Clarke said icily.

“Lieutenant,” Lexa suddenly interrupted, her tone severe, “Engineering has ordered a full report of helm control and handling,”

The man tore his gaze from Clarke to nod to the Varro.

“Sure. It’ll take a few hours though,”

“Hours, Mr. Blake?”

“Hm,” he replied distractedly.

Lexa tensed, “Is the timeframe due to having troubles focusing, Mr. Blake?”

She timed this just as Bellamy’s eyes had slid to the cream of Clarke’s thigh, revealing and sexy from the rise of her dress’ hem. The man seemed slightly bashful at being caught, but his eye turned sly once more.

“Well, now that you suggest it, Commander,” he leered at the Navigator, “I could use some extra help,” he threw Lexa a look, “you know, for the handling,”

The First Officer flexed her jaw as her glare turned volcanic, and Clarke felt her throat dry. The idea of Lexa angry was hot, but Lexa really and physically furious was downright smoldering.

“It’s not a problem,” Clarke interrupted, staving off what would have been Lexa’s loathing response. She cast a significant glance at the taller woman, “I can help with the combat maneuvers. It should go quicker that way,”

Lexa’s green eyes were crystalline in their flint, and she flexed her jaw as Clarke’s oceanic gaze settled something in her chest. She nodded.

“Very well,” She turned, “Mr. Blake, do you need any other assistance?”

The oil slick smile spilling over his features didn’t bank at the icy tone. Instead, he apparently felt more free to let his gaze linger over Clarke’s form.

“No, thanks,” he smirked, “I’ve got Clarke here to handle all the more… aggressive aspects of this little job,”

Whatever Clarke had used to valve the gasket of Lexa’s cold fury erupted. The air she breathed in was hot and sharp in her lungs, and she took a dangerous step toward Bellamy. Her gaze narrowed distainfully and the pilot seemed to realize he had overstepped.

“Mr. Blake,” Lexa started, her teeth revealed only in the disgusted peel of her lips. She ran unimpressed eyes over his form before continuing with her gaze locked on his, “Understand me very clearly. You are an insufferable, arrogant, lecherous waste of carbon. If it were up to me, you would never wear that uniform again, as you disgrace the very fabric,” Lexa didn’t spit her words. They were sure, and smooth, and menacing. Bellamy swallowed.

“Your pig headedness, while revolting, is excusable. You are a very average pilot, but you are able to at least accomplish the most basic of tasks. But hear me, you sniveling weasel of a hopeful pervert,” her lips thinned, “Leave Clarke alone,”

“Lexa-“

“A moment,” Lexa ground out, not addressing the hand Clarke had stood to press to the Varro’s lower back, “Please,”

Clarke bit her lip, her heartbeat sinking to between her legs.

“Clarke is not yours, and will never be yours,” Lexa seethed quietly, “You are so far beneath her, it sickens me to think you so conceited as to consider she might be interested in you. She is not. In fact,” her lips screwed into a threatening smile, “she is interested only in me,”

Bellamy’s pale face blanched, and his dark beady eyes shifted between the two of them. Clarke trailed her knuckles over the dip of Lexa’s spine through her uniform, hoping to get the woman hard if she wasn’t already.

Lexa gave a light, chest-rattling growl as her cock tightened. Her eyes were ghosting over with a film of lust she didn’t know how to see around. Still, Clarke started this not meaning for her to find that way. And so,

“That’s right,” she whispered out, her hand reaching to wrap around Clarke’s waist and pull her against her. She didn’t look away from Bellamy’s horrified eyes, “Clarke is mine. Not yours,” she growled, “Mine. And to impress this idea upon you, you will see just how true that is. And after,” her voice dropped to a low, deadly octave, “You will not come near her. Ever again,”

In a swift motion, she seated herself in Clarke’s chair and pulled the woman on top of her. Wasting no time, Lexa put fingers against the thin lace of Clarke’s panties, and the pleased rumble of her chest fanned Clarke’s flames.

“So wet,” Lexa purred, and Clarke nodded with a groan. She looked over Lexa’s face, beautiful and angry still, and watched the green eyes flick over to the stupefied man at the pilot’s helm. Clarke moaned as Lexa started up a smooth rhythm.

“Too slow,” she grunted, and immediately began pawing at Lexa’s trousers. The brunette let out a breath of agreement and shifted to let Clarke tug her pants to where they wouldn’t hurt her.

“Here,” Lexa soothed, hands going to Clarke’s thighs and pulling her dress down further, her eyes nearly jade in their darkness, “I do not want him to see you,”

Clarke hummed, a smile suddenly taking over, “I kind of want him to see you, though,”

Lexa lifted a brow, and Clarke took her swollen cock out from her briefs, tucking the waistband under even her balls. She hid the heavy member in the cradle of her groin.

“You’re probably bigger than he is,” Clarke rusked, subtly moving her own underwear aside to rub Lexa against her slippery folds. The Varro groaned, her eyes raking hot coals over Bellamy. The blonde didn’t stop, her mouth descending next to Lexa’s, “You’re bigger than anyone I’ve ever had,”

And Clarke pushed her inside.

They moaned in synchrony. Lexa’s hands clenched around the blonde’s thighs, pulling her as flush as possible. Clarke only sank her fingers into Lexa’s shoulders, sighing with relief. She locked eyes with the Varro.

“Look at me,” Clarke whispered throatily, “Only at me,”

Lexa did.

Clarke was so beautiful. Her cheeks slightly flushed, eyes deep wells of lust and affection. Her hair billowed and haloed around her face and shoulders. She smelled so good, and was wonderfully light in Lexa’s lap, but solid and real. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Lexa craned her head up to request a kiss.

Clarke’s heart fluttered at Lexa’s sudden shyness. With enthusiasm, she dipped her head and joined their lips tenderly, quickly allowing Lexa’s slim tongue into her mouth.

“Clarke,” Bellamy whimpered, his eyes devastated and his voice high. His mud eyes flickered from where the two were obviously joined, to the softness in their faces.

Clarke simply quaked around Lexa’s length inside of her, and unwrapped an arm from the woman’s shoulder’s to extend a single raised middle finger toward the pilot.

When she smiled against Lexa’s lips, the Varro turned her head slightly and broke into deep chuckles at the offended hurt on Bellamy’s face. Clarke’s smiling mouth nipped at her bottom lip, and Lexa’s heart purred.

Clarke was hers, and the satisfaction of showing the egotistical pilot was worth it, even if it was only in their own holodeck.

She pulled away from Clarke’s lips and arched her head, Clarke immediately moving to lave her neck with supple kisses.

“Computer,” Lexa throated hoarsely, “Remove all personnel from program,”

Clarke hummed, her voice suddenly hitching high as Lexa supported her arse and stood swiftly. The Varro immediately deposited her on top of the navigational conn.

Lexa’s hands planted in brackets of Clarke’s hips, and her dress rolled all the way up. There were strange sounds of buttons being pressed and chirps of adjustments, but Lexa was sliding inside of Clarke in devoted, purposeful thrusts, and the blonde couldn’t have cared less.

As they kissed and sweated against each other, they knew the game was over. Now, it was just the two of them. Lexa’s quick and deep thrusts had Clarke’s insides building in a wonderful, swooping pressure, and she whispered around moans that she was going to come.

Lexa only nodded against her, and groaned when Clarke said her name in a high, shivering whine. She exploded deep inside the blonde, high moments of extended bliss. Clarke could only pant against the brunette as she came down from her own orgasm, toying with the sweat-damp locks of Lexa’s soft hair.

She grinned and kissed the Varro’s temple succinctly.

“Now that was fun,” she hummed.

Lexa laughed against her tiredly, “Very satisfying,”

Clarke bit her lip, relaxing against the brunette. Internally, she couldn’t stop running Lexa’s words over in her head.

_Clarke is mine. Not yours. Mine._

* * *

**Day: 314**

“I constructed them out of compressed graphite compounds and real wood I acquired from the Vaskan trade market two days ago. They are real, not replicated,”

“Lexa,” Clarke breathed, her eyes marveling at the pencils, “How did you… they’re different colors,”

“Mhm,” the Varro smiled, pleased Clarke seemed happy, “I had to experiment with the dyes I could acquire. I am sorry it took so long. But the stop in Vaska allowed me everything I needed. Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful,” Clarke openly admired. She smiled widely and threw her arms around the woman, “Thank you,”

Lexa only hummed and hugged Clarke back. The blonde separated and wrinkled her nose.

“But you also sort of ruined my surprise,”

“Oh?”

“Yep,” Clarke crossed to her nightstand and produced three pale, yellow-white cylinders. Lexa’s mouth dropped and her eyes sparkled in excitement. Clarke just laughed.

“I found these on Vaska, too,” she handed one of the candles over to the taller woman, smelling her own as she spoke. Lexa mimicked the movement, “Earth beeswax and all. I had to get them for you,” she winked, “Don’t they smell so much better than the Bajoran shrines?”

Lexa inhaled the soft honey scent and grinned. She set each of the candles down carefully and swept Clarke into a simple, grateful kiss.

“They are wonderful. Thank you, Clarke, I adore them,”

Clarke smiled at the gleaming thrill in Lexa’s eyes, playing with the curled brunette locks.

“You’re welcome,” she smoothed. The candles hadn’t been cheap, especially on a non-Federation planet where they still used currency. But this, Lexa’s brilliant expression, made it worth it and more.

“Wanna light one and make out?”

Lexa snorted a laugh, somehow still remarkably attractive. Clarke grinned wolfishly.

“You _are_ a seductress, are you not?”

“You’re the one with the sexy, sexy, pencils, Lex,”

“That is true enough. I suppose I will take your offer as compensation,”

The women smiled at each other largely, and Lexa eventually led Clarke to the couch, settling in for a long moments of deep, unhurried, kissing.

* * *

**Day: 398  **

Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke from behind, her nose sliding against Clarke’s jaw until she dipped to lay a kiss to the blonde’s cheek.

“Hello,” she murmured.

“Hey,” Clarke mused back, an eyebrow arching, “And what exactly do you think is happening right now?”

Lexa smirked against her, shuffling forward until her hips cradled Clarke’s rear.

“A course debriefing,”

Clarke laughed, craning backwards to bestow a gentle kiss to Lexa’s smiling lips. When she separated, she gave the beautiful Varro an apologetic look.

“Sorry Lex, there won’t be a debriefing of any kind today,” she patted the woman’s cheek gently.

Lexa frowned, “Okay,” she paused, curious, “Why?”

Clarke, oddly enough, suffused with color and gave a small cough. Lexa cocked her head and waited patiently.

“I’m uh,” Clarke shorted uncharacteristically, “I’m kind of on my period,”

Lexa blinked.

“Pardon?”

Clarke wanted to huff, “I’m on my period,” she repeats.

The brunette was quiet, feeling she was missing something. Carefully, she shorted, “I do not know what that means, Clarke. Are you unwell?”

Clarke groaned. She disentangled herself from Lexa’s embrace and shot the Varro a glare.

“I’m fine. We’re just not going to be having sex for about a week,” Lexa lowered her eyebrows in mild concern, and Clarke’s look darkened, “Is that a problem?”

Lexa tipped her head, contemplating. Clarke scowled.

“You’re a pig,” the blonde bit harshly, “Go to sickbay, and ask someone else. I’m not explaining this to you,”

“Clarke,” Lexa protested, her expression passing into offence.

“Just leave me alone, Lexa,” the blonde ground out.

Lexa flexed her jaw, feeling she had made some kind of mistake. Clarke was bordering on angry, and Lexa wasn’t sure what she had done.

“Uhm,” she cleared her throat, and put her hands behind her back, straightening, “I will, uhm,” she stalled, her chest aching at the irritation she had caused in the blonde, “I will go. I am… sorry to bother you,”

She worried her lip minutely before drawing up and nodding, her voice not as strong as she intended. Lexa turned and left the lab with sure steps and the hissing escape of the door’s open and shut.

Clarke stared at the door for a few moments before the haze of irritation left her mind.

“Oh God, what did I just do?” she groaned, holding her face. She bit her lip. Lexa had never been selfish a day in her life, and Clarke had gone and PMS’d at her. She sighed, turning back to the control panel.

“I’ll fix it after duty,” she resolutely muttered to herself.

When that moment came, Clarke found herself outside of Lexa’s door. She took a breath and hailed the woman. Almost immediately, she was let in, and she made quick movements through the First Officer’s quarters.

Lexa appeared suddenly, blocking her path to the kitchenette.

“Clarke,” the Varro breathed, her eyes hesitant and surprised. Oddly, her ears were faintly pink, and Clarke frowned at the woman.

“Are you alright?” she asked slowly.

“Me?” Lexa asked, “No, I am perfectly fine,” she twitched her jaw, glancing away, “Are- are you feeling… well?” she tried, her eyes bashful.

Clarke wanted to coo at the Varro at the same time as slap herself.

“I’m fine, Lex,” she tried, placing a hand on the taller woman’s bicep. She caught Lexa’s careful green eyes, “I wanted to apologize,” Lexa watched her closely, and Clarke tried a smile, “Can we sit down?”

Strangely, Lexa seemed to shuffle uncomfortably, and her voice came out pleading and weak, “No,”

Clarke quirked an eyebrow, trying to observe the apartment for any obvious disturbances or guests, but quickly moved on.

“Okay then,” she refocused, “I just wanted to say I was sorry. I’m not feeling… myself,” she sighed, “I get all hormonal, and I just instantly go to the angry place,”

Lexa’s mouth flickered with amusement, and the blonde felt her heart lighten slightly.

“The angry place is easier than not taking it out on you, and that’s wrong. I’m sorry, Lex. I know you’d never just expect sex from me. I’m sorry for snapping at you. If you want to ask anything about human anatomy, I’ll be happy to explain it to you,”

The brunette laughed as Clarke smiled winningly, the expression turning hopeful. Lexa’s eyes were light when she met Clarke’s again, and she nodded graciously.

“I took your advice,” Lexa started, mildly embarrassed, “I read a PADD on human reproduction. Female menstruation was detailed. And Clarke, that is…” she winced slightly, her eyes casting down to Clarke’s lower section, “weird,”

Clarke burst out laughing, and Lexa’s answering smile let her relax and lean into the Varro. Lexa’s arms wrapped around her waist, and Clarke slipped her arms around her neck.

“You think so?” she asked, “Is that your official, professional, academic conclusion?”

Lexa smiled before nodding seriously.

“Yes. It seems to me that the human reproductive system is entirely too reliant on female biology,”

Clarke tipped her head, hand going to play with Lexa’s neck ridges. The Varro gave a hum of pleasure, her eyes easing.

“Well then, how do Varro do it?”

Lexa dipped her head, nosing at Clarke’s nose briefly.

“Varro enjoy sex almost as much as humans do, apparently,” she wrinkled her nose and Clarke scoffed. The brunette continued, “But two Varro, when they partake in _olan’vora_ and want to reproduce, simply transfer their essences to a _fleim_ ,” she seemed to search, “it is a type of uhm.. holder?” Lexa frowned before shaking her head.

“Parents to be take turns guarding their child as they grow,” she frowned lightly, “Humans and this _cycle_ seems exhausting and unnecessarily painful for their females. Not to mention strange that creating life can be accidental,” her nose scrunched as she criticized human physiology, “The notion of _pregnancy_ is odd. Are infants not in constant danger of their carriers being harmed?”

Clarke was laughing by the end of it. She tipped upwards onto her toes to draw Lexa into a kiss. The Varro moved to accommodate her, and Clarke smiled against her mouth.

“We usually just call them mom, not carrier,” she agreed, a spasm of discomfort edging into her face as she cramped again. Weirdly, Lexa’s eyes lit.

“Clarke,” she started, her hands coming up to clasp Clarke’s and bring them between them, “I read many things, and tried to come up with something to help you,”

Clarke frowned, “Help me?”

Lexa nodded, her ears slowly flushing pink. She shifted, and allowed Clarke further into her quarters, the blonde woman advancing into Lexa’s rooms.

“Lex, what do you,” she slowed, her eyes going wide, “mean. Lexa?”

The Varro cleared her throat, but smiled smally, pointing at the items clustered onto her low table.

“I read that chocolate with 80% cocoa is a frequently requested item when a female is menstruating, as well as a heated water. I do not know what that is, so I assumed a thermal blanket would suffice,” Lexa didn’t look to meet Clarke’s eyes, and continued nervously, “I have a medicine Lincoln provided to reduce your muscle spasms, as well as an assortment of things I know you enjoy snacking with,”

Lexa turned to the gaping blonde with a serious expression.

“I also did not know what sort of activity you would feel comfortable partaking in, so I have reserved a holodeck if you want to move around, but have also downloaded several movies from Earth in case you chose to relax,”

The brunette seemed to catch her breath and waited.

Clarke’s mind churned back awake and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread over her face.

“Oh, Lex,” she breathed, her eyes glistening for a reason she couldn’t explain. She pressed a hand to her mouth, and Lexa froze.

“Clarke?” she strained, “I read about strong emotions, but I-“ she nearly seemed to panic, “Please tell me how to help you,”

Clarke laughed through her building tears.

“Come take me to bed. And hold me,”

Relieved, Lexa stepped to the woman and gently swept the blonde into her arms. Clarke laid kisses to every inch of Lexa’s face, pulling the Varro on top of her once Lexa had set her down.

“You’re so sweet,” Clarke cried, the brunette even now wiping the tears from her face. Lexa simply smiled quietly, settling to shift Clarke on top of her. From here, she allowed Clarke to relax completely, and massaged every muscle she could reach.

The blonde merely hummed, moaned, and sniffled her way into comfort, and Lexa felt her heart beat slow for this woman.

“The birth control I’m on makes sure this’ll only happen once every 12 months,” Clarke huffed sleepily. Lexa twisted a smile back into submission, careful Clarke might misinterpret it.

“I do not mind, my Starbright,” she soothed, her hands never ceasing movement, “Really, I do not mind,”

As Clarke slowly gentled off to sleep, Lexa lay awake, her heart slow and deep in her chest. She currently held the only thing in the dimension she might love, and the fact that Clarke continued to reject her olan’vora tugged at her chest. Still, Clarke cared for her.

The last thing she remembered was nuzzling into Clarke’s hair, and pressing a kiss to her temple, telling herself to be grateful for what she has.

* * *

**Day: 425  **

“God, is anything better than pizza? I don’t think there is. Not in this quadrant or the next,”

Octavia laughed, shrugging, “True… Actually. I don’t know, sex is pretty great,”

Clarke and Raven laughed shortly. The blonde settled her seated posture in her quarters and fixed her gaze on Octavia.

“Alright, O, choose. For the next 5 years, you can only have pizza or sex,”

The guard considered her with equal seriousness.

“How often?”

“Once a week,”

“Pizza,”

They burst out laughing. Octavia settled before asking Raven what she thought. The engineer tipped her head, deep in thought.

“I don’t know. Clarke?”

“Sex,” was the immediate reply.

Octavia laughed while Raven frowned, her eyes flicking to the corner and back sharply. Clarke stilled curiously.

“Everything alright?” she hazard. The Betazoid waved her off.

“Yeah, yeah,” she shrugged, “Might have allergies. My telepathy is off,”

“The Commander’s that good then?” Octavia continued interestedly. Clarke tried not to think about the contemplative look on Octavia’s face. The brunette backtracked, “For you, for you! I promise, I’m keeping my hands to myself,”

Clarke rolled her eyes, mouth twitching, Raven looking away again.

“Then yes. That good,” Clarke continued to eat her pizza nonchalantly. Raven and Octavia exchanged unimpressed looks.

“Okay, blondie, we need to have a talk,”

Raven nodded in solidarity while Clarke lifted an eyebrow. Octavia settled an accusatory glance at the navigator.

“How long exactly have you been sleeping together, again?”

Clarke’s mind tried to scream caution at her, but her two best friends had fixed hurt and expectant looks on her. She realized she had been spending all her time with Lexa, and this was normal procedure when one of the three had a personal life.

“Since the Hazari,”

“10 months??” Octavia frowned, and Raven narrowed her eyes.

“I mean sex. As in, anything that can produce an orgasm,”

Clarke recounted and sighed, “Since we left Deep Space 9,”

“ _What?_ ” Raven hissed, while Octavia looked halfway between shocked and impressed.

“Clarke, that was a year and a half ago!”

“14 months,” she corrected halfheartedly.

“How is that possible?” Octavia marveled. Clarke shrugged.

“Like I said before, we’re friends, we don’t make it weird,”

“Huh,” the woman considered, “I should try that,” she wrinkled her nose, “Nevermind. That seems complicated as fuck,”

“It’s not, really,”

“Oh?” Raven inquires. Clarke nod.

“We’ll eat dinner, or lunch or whatever together, and it’s just like hanging out. It’s not weird to work, and then take a break for something less stressful. After, we go right back to a holodeck, or drawing, or anything at all,”

She shrugged, and Octavia ticked an eyebrow.

“Clarke, that’s called dating,”

“We’re not dating,”

“Do you spend the night?” Raven tries, and Clarke shrugs.

“Sometimes, sure,”

“And you sometimes hang out but don’t have sex?” the Betazoid moves in, and Clarke shoots her a small glare.

“I see her all the time. If we had sex every time we were together, we’d both be court martialed,”

Octavia snaps her fingers, a smug look on her face.

“Do you kiss?”

The navigator frowns, confused, “We’re sleeping together, of course we kiss,” she cocked an eyebrow, “You must have terrible sex,”

Raven chortled, and the brunette rolls her eyes.

“No, I mean, have you ever kissed outside of in bed?”

Clarke stalls, her brain switching. Then, her lips curl, “You only have sex in a bed? Wow, your sex life is way more lame than I’d imagined it,”

Raven laughed again, adding her own barb. Privately, Clarke supercuts together all of the moments she and Lexa kiss in. And it’s almost constant. For greetings, farewells, gratitude, teasing. They kiss.

“I don’t know, Clarke,” Octavia finally lazes out, “That sounds like dating,”

Clarke bites her bottom lip, her mind ringing with images of Lexa. Recently, she’s developed this affinity for brining Clarke fruit. Except Lexa intricately carves and hand-cuts them. Apple swans, pear doves, strawberry roses. The Varro always gets this adorably pleased look in her eyes while she presents it. Without fail, Clarke lavishes the woman with well-earned gratitude, consenting to let Lexa feed her some of it.

She sighs.

“Well, we’re not. We’re just fucking,”

Suddenly, Raven is up and spun around, her tricorder out and the smell of ozone splits the air as she fires a phaser round at the corner she kept glancing at.

“Holy shit!” Octavia shouts, jumping to her feel.

“I know you’re there, you fuck,” Raven grits, her black eyes searching the seemingly empty corner.

Clarke’s eyes were wide, but she only stands when the space suddenly cracks, and color leeches into the air like ink drops in water. She gasps when that color blooms outward, forming a portal of blood, and then a Starfleet command uniform collapses to the ground.

“Lexa!”

Octavia is quicker in practicality, “Blake to sickbay,” she calls to her comm, just as Raven taps her own.

“Ops, this is Lt Reyes, I need a site to site transport,”

While Raven and Octavia make the calls, Clarke had gone to her knees next to her lover.

“Lex!” she nearly shouts, her hands going to apply pressure to the wound.

The Varro’s face is pale and wracked with pain, but her emerald eyes focus.

“ _Clarke,_ ” she gasps out, and Clarke can see black blood welling in the woman’s throat. She pulls roughly at Lexa until she rolls onto her side, letting the blood spill out. She coughs and rasps cleaner air back in just as Clarke’s eyes widen in horror. Lexa has six metal rods driven into the sensitive vertebrae of her spine.

“Clarke,” she tries, and the blonde goes to her stomach to hear her, “On the ship,” she inhales a pitiful amount of air, and Clarke steels herself. Duty first.

“What, baby? What’s on the ship?” She nearly whines at herself. Baby. Right, duty first.

The green eyes roll in her head, and Clarke’s heart jolts, but waits.

“Two,” Lexa coughs, “Humanoid. They-“ she pulled in a painful breath while Raven called over.

“Clarke, they’re ready to beam her! You have to move!”

The Varro grasped Clarke’s forearm with surprising strength, “Starbright, they’re using a- a phase variance,”

“Clarke, move!”

Even as Lexa’s body energized, the blonde tried to strain out reassurance. Lincoln was competent. He could fix this. He could help her.

In the break of Lexa’s disappearance, Clarke could hardly breathe.

“Starbright?” Octavia asked dully.

But Clarke didn’t even hear her. She was on her feet, “Griffin to the Captain,”

Anya’s collected tones met her, “Go ahead,”

“Captain, I would like to push forward our routine astrometics lab inspection,”

The line paused while Raven stared at her in confusion.

“Indeed. I will be there shortly. Triged, out,”

“Clarke, what are you doing?” Raven said tensely.

The blonde cast a paranoid eye around her quarters and spoke in a hush.

“We have to behave like everything is normal. Before you hit Lexa with your tricorder, we couldn’t see her, couldn’t hear her, right?”

The brunettes gave twin nods.

“So we have to assume these intruders are the same. We don’t know where they are, or what they want. I’m going to consult with the Captain as to what to do next,”

“What if we just phaser-shocked everyone aboard simultaneously?” Raven asked, “A ship-wide neuroleptic shock could be rendered through the ship’s EPS relays?”

Octavia pursed her lips, “You’d have to mess with safety protocols to do that, right? Indra will see it,”

Clarke nodded, “For now, Octavia, do phase variance scans of the ship. See if you pick up abnormalities,” the woman nodded, “Raven, see if you can walk around and sense anyone invisible by telepathy. That’s how you picked up Lexa, right?”

The betazoid agreed.

“Let us know if we need to meet again,”

“Call us to the Captain’s ready room,” Octavia added.

Clarke nodded and the three departed. In the lab, Anya had just arrived on time, a PADD in her hand.

“I admit, Lt Commander, this is a surprise. I haven’t seen anyone volunteer for an inspection since a cadet was day-drunk at the Academy,”

Clarke gave a small, forced smile to the Ruji woman’s attempt at a joke. Anya frowned slightly. Of all her senior officers, Griffin was her most relied on for a sensible laugh. Now, the blonde seemed harried and tense.

Entering the lab, Clarke crossed to immediately lock the doors behind them and scan the room for any kind of phase, dimensional, space-time, or energy disturbances.

Clear of that, she turned on the confused Captain.

“Captain, there are intruders on the ship,”

Immediately, Anya sharpens, something Clarke didn’t think was possible. Errantly, she thought about how Lexa would have laughed at her assessment. If only Lexa hadn’t been lying in sickbay, bleeding. She refocused and explained what had happened.

“If anything has been found, Octavia won’t have reported it until we call her to your ready room,”

The dusty blonde paused.

“I see,” she took a moment to scan around the lab, before nodding to herself, “I’ll take care of this. I’d like for you to stay here and search our past and current position for life signs and possible sources of this… invasion,” the Captain’s voice was metered, but Clarke felt the rage gilding every syllable.

“Aye, Captain,”

“While those scans run, report to sickbay,”

Clarke froze, her heart beating once, loudly.

“Captain?”

Without a single change to her expression, Anya carried on, “If Lexa is awake, you could find out more information. If she is not… encourage her spirit to be so. It will hear you,”

The blonde felt her chest tighten as she inhaled, and Clarke found she could only choke out a lame, “Aye, Captain,”

After Anya left, and Clarke’s hands went on autopilot to arrange the scans, her mind hummed with activity she tried to repress. When the computer told her the information was being retrieved, it took everything she had not to run to sickbay.

“How is the Commander?” was all she had to say to Lincoln. Behind him, Monty was squinting at the medical tricorder he was running over Lexa’s temple. She lay under a swath of shimmering material, eyes closed and hair loose.

The Romulan shifted his broad shoulders.

“She’ll live,”

Clarke found a tremble of fear at the idea that this statement was even debatable at some point, but relaxed minutely and nodded for him to continue.

“Varro have interesting anatomy,” he mused as he brought a PADD to her attention, “Mostly due to the build and sheer number of nerves in their spines. Unfortunately, someone or something has thought so too,” his features darkened, “Severe trauma to the cervical through lumbar vertebrae. We were able to remove the rods and replicate the leaked spinal fluid,” he tipped his head, “Commander He’da will awaken, but be in most likely an incoherent amount of pain,”

Clarke bit her lip, “Any way to prevent that?”

Lincoln cast a conflicted look toward her, “I would need to keep her medically sedated. Varro don’t sleep without their mates,”

Clarke heart thudded, but she pressed on, “She’s not mated, though. Shouldn’t it be fine?”

The Romulan cast an unreadable look over Clarke’s face for a moment too long to be normal. Then, he nodded slowly. The Doctor glanced at the PADD and back to the blonde’s edged expression.

“Very well,”

Clarke nodded, “Thank you,” she sighed, “Any idea what caused this?”

Lincoln frowned monumentally, before moving to a display screen and pointing out key features.

“I can’t be certain, but I’ve seen readings like this before,” he started in his low, intelligent tone, “In medical school, one of my peers was excused from study when his research proposal was reviewed. It looked incredibly similar,”

Clarke frowned, “You’re saying she’s some kind of… science project?”

Lincoln gave a low grunt.

“The rods served not only as spacers, probes, and extraction pins, but also as a transmitter. Something has been receiving data from her,”

Clarke scowled, but got an idea.

“Right. Thanks, Doctor,” Lincoln nodded and moved to assist Monty. Clarke took small steps toward Lexa’s bed and checked to ensure the medical team was occupied. Softly, she laid a hand to Lexa’s cheek, running her thumb over the smooth skin. She bit her lip, “We’re taking good care of you, Lex. It’s gonna be alright,”

Swiftly, she bent to lay a kiss to her temple, and discreetly wiped her buzzing lips as she left sickbay. She swept to the astrometics lab to gather her own data and assist where she could.

20 hours passed, aliens eradicated, and Clarke entered sickbay to find Lexa sitting up. The Varro looked for all the galaxy like she wanted to kiss the blonde, but Clarke swallowed, asking Lincoln if Lexa was allowed to be discharged.

He nodded, watching her mutely.

When the doors to Lexa’s quarter’s slid shut, Clarke broke down in tears. Lexa slowly lowered them both onto the bed, whispering quiet reassurances of her existence.

“I promise, Clarke,” she whispered, “I am here,”

* * *

**Day: 512**

“Why,” Lexa blanked, her teeth going to set together, and Clarke smirked.

“Because it’s good to appreciate what you have,”

“I appreciate you, Clarke,”

“It’s all about perspective, Lex,”

Lexa wanted to whine, but her pride refused to allow it. She huffed and glared at the small foil square between Clarke’s fingers.

“I,” she started, and flexed her jaw. She drew to her full height and clasped her hands behind her, “I do not want to. It is a crude technology,”

The blonde merely folded her arms and cocked her head.

“Alright,” she allowed, seeming more reasonable than Lexa privately thought she was being, “I’m not going to make you have sex with me,”

Lexa tensed as Clarke dropped the hammer.

“But this is the only way you’ll get to,” the blonde shrugged and smirked, turning to walk away. Lexa gaped, nearly losing her composure.

It took three days.

Three days from Clarke’s strange, dark idea of a joke, and Lexa was lying on top of her lover, Clarke having just rolled the device onto her hard, aching, length.

Lexa grimaced. The condom felt strange. It was restrictive and unpleasantly tight. She felt like she was wearing gloves while touching softness. The depth of perception had been solidly snapped shut, and Lexa didn’t like it. Not to mention the limiting nature of a barrier between herself and Clarke.

No, Lexa did not enjoy wearing this condom at all.

Even as she pushes inside Clarke, she does not feel herself warm to the offensive device. Clarke is just as tight, to be sure, but it felt as if someone had blinded her, or tied her hands behind her back. The sensory deprivation for her was so severe. Clarke seemed to enjoy herself, though, and so Lexa dutifully started up a swift rhythm.

“Clarke,” Lexa rasped, her brow furrowing, “I do not like it,” she repeated emphatically.

Clarke’s nails bit into her shoulders, and Lexa gave a grunt of frustration. She lifted one of Clarke’s legs to where her ankle was nearly parallel with her ear. Clarke loved it, and Lexa usually did too. As it were, Lexa felt as if she were watching from far away.

She grit her teeth and spend up. Clarke moaned, her brow furrowing slightly. Lexa chased all of Clarke’s familiar signs, and after a few well-placed swats to the rear and a whisper for Clarke to come, she did just that.

“Wow,” the blonde breathed to the ceiling after Lexa had rolled to the other side of the bed, panting, “You’re great when you’re frustrated,” she laughed shortly, “That was fun,”

There was silence, and then a low, conflicted tone.

“It was alright,”

Clarke swiveled her head sharply. Lexa’s voice was always gentle, but this was edged in a gritty band of dissatisfied. Clarke tried to peer at the woman, and the gears in her head turned.

“Alright?” she repeated, trying not to be offended. She knew it wasn’t about her, and her concern for Lexa overtook her pride in her skill. Clarke studied the Varro in the darkness, for the first time considering Lexa’s twice-repeated words.

“Computer, low lights,” she called, the dim lamps immediately lifting the veil of the room. Clarke’s blue eyes were suddenly serious as she skimmed over Lexa’s furrowed brow and beautiful pout.

“Lexa,” she started, the green irises watching her, “I won’t know what you’re feeling if you don’t talk to me. Why didn’t you like that?”

The brunette shifted slightly, her eyes suddenly vulnerable as she toyed with the bed sheets, considering. Lexa breathed and shot the blonde an imploring look.

“The condom,” she began, “was unnecessary. And I felt it prevented a… connection,” Lexa felt her chest unwind when Clarke merely watched her, listening. She continued, “I do not like feeling like this. It started to feel like sex with me is a replaceable object that you want to distance yourself from,” she squirmed, “I like to feel you. I like your heat, and pressure, and softness. To mute it is to experience less than,”

She toyed with the sheet again.

“It was sex,” she concluded, “Mechanical, cold. Nothing more than sex,”

A beat, and Clarke felt her heart constrict painfully. She should have asked Lexa about this much, much earlier. Looking at her now, the woman probably hadn’t even come. She had grown used to the idea that Lexa always reached orgasm with her, and that was that.

Clarke felt a little disgusted with herself. She moved to situate herself on top of the Varro, and she pressed her naked body to the lean length of Lexa’s own. The Varro seemed to sigh at the press of their skin, and her hands immediately settled on Clarke’s hips.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke whispered, her eyes sincere, “Lexa, I really am sorry, babe. I thought it would be a fun sort of tease for us, but I didn’t credit you with how sensual of a person you are,” she traced Lexa’s cheek minutely, “I need you to know it wasn’t my intention to distance myself from you. I like our intimacy. It drives me crazy, you know that. Can you forgive me?”

Lexa merely watched her, and then nodded.

“Thank you,” Clarke crooned, “Now, let me make it up to you,” she smiled, her eyes allowing a small, joyful bit of mischief to flash through. She reached down to remove the condom from Lexa’s cock, confirming that no, Lexa hadn’t come. Another flash of guilt before she placed a slow kiss to Lexa’s lips, and she shifted to sink the woman’s length inside of her.

Lexa moaned into her mouth, and Clarke breathed through her nose reflexively.

The blonde was so hot and tight, every time. But this time, Clarke barely gave Lexa room to forget that. She merely rocked slowly. Her hips rolled, and Lexa’s mind blanked as Clarke’s eyes kept open, only closing to invite deep, open kisses.

Lexa felt hotter inside of Clarke, and the blonde gasped out her relief, her insides accommodating Lexa’s cock. She rippled her inner muscles around the unyielding length, and her moan echoed through her chest at the solid pressure of Lexa inside of her, rubbing against her every wall.

Clarke shut her eyes and planted one hands on Lexa’s ribs, the other going to her own breast. Lexa’s hands were on her arse, and Clarke knew she was being watched, Lexa just biding her time until she could help Clarke’s rhythm.

Bouncing stronger, Clarke lifted entirely, her knees starting to ache. Lexa’s groan was low and heady, and Clarke grinned before adjusting and slowing sinking down on Lexa’s cock once more.

“God, Lex, you always feel- oh! Don’t move!”

Lexa froze when Clarke had sat flush down, Lexa’s cock entirely inside her. Her vision swam and she knew Lexa was worried. Wrenching her eyes open, she gave Lexa a look so filled with lust and desire, the Varro had to dig her heels into the bed to stop herself from bucking.

“Lex, babe, oh god,” Clarke nearly whined, “You’re right on my cervix, baby, oh god don’t move at all,”

And Lexa could feel it. There was a hard, unyielding point deep inside Clarke that her dick was perfectly positioned on. All she wanted was to rub the tip of her cock on that wet, creamy surface, but she inherently sensed that it would hurt Clarke.

Her balls were tightening with every constriction Clarke’s insides gave, and the length of her dick was gripped in glorious heat. She gasped out Clarke’s name in a plea, but the blonde shook her head, shuddering from head to toe. Even this single shiver spasmed around Lexa’s dick, and triggered even more tremors.

Very slowly and very carefully, Clarke’s body relaxed. Her tense thighs uncoiled, and the hand not at a pink nipple slipped down to toy at her clit. She breathed sharply.

“Baby, I need you to come,” she grit, her eyes shut. Lexa felt herself almost release just as Clarke had said. But she merely fractured out a painful whimper, and Clarke’s breathing was heavy, “Lex, please. Please please, I need to feel you-, oh god, please come!”

Lexa did. She gasped, and spasmed, and let the curling heat roil through her stomach and erupt through her cock. She pressed it tight to the hard bundle at her tip, and _ground_ into it, thrusting deep and hard in three quick, biting jolts, never separating Clarke’s hips from hers. Clarke gave a sharp scream, and then she was coming as well.

Lexa shivered and felt her cock twitch while Clarke’s walls milk her to exhaustion, and Clarke finally falls forward and onto Lexa’s chest, panting. They’re sticky with sweat, but Clarke eased herself off of Lexa’s length and rolls to her side.

She groans.

“What that enough of a connection for you?” she says through winded breaths.

Lexa laughs, turning to kiss the satisfied blonde. One, two, three quick, separate kisses, and the Varro glows proudly. Clarke groans, sending a half-hearted slap to her shoulder.

“I’m sleeping now. That was amazing,”

Lexa merely hums, nuzzling close when Clarke rolls over. The blonde calls for the lights to turn off, and Lexa presses kisses to her neck.

The next day, Clarke wobbles as she gets out of bed, and shudders. Lexa’s face is pure conflict, concern and immense self-congratulations warring. The navigator can only shoot her a glare as she stumbles to the shower.

“Shut up,”

* * *

**Day: 632**

Clarke tried to clear the sleep from her eyes by sheer force of will. She wrinkled her nose at the lack of result she saw in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth. A few moments of admiring the wreck of her hair, and the door opened briefly.

“Good morning,” Lexa breathes, her lungs freshly awoken from her run in the gym.

“’ii,” Clarke attempts around her toothbrush, making eye contact in the mirror. The blonde head bows to spit into the sink and then switch to the bottom set of her teeth. On straightening, she noticed Lexa had crossed to the toilet and began working at her Starfleet running leggings.

Clarke stretched her spine briefly, mentally going over the day’s work in the astrometics lab. It was only when she heard a minuscule sigh of relief did it register that Lexa was urinating in front of her.

Clarke paused, her blue eyes unchanged but staring at the Varro at her toilet.

This wasn’t the first time this had occurred. In fact, she distinctly remembers laughing at a Lexa nervous about using the rest of the washroom while Clarke showered. Later, rolling her eyes at the way Lexa had bit her lip when Clarke had walked in while she peed to fetch her tricorder and left again. That seemed like so long ago.

So no, it wasn’t odd. Which only enforced the idea that this was incredibly odd.

“Er. Clarke?”

Her eyes snapped to Lexa’s, the vivid green confused.

“Hello,” Clarke said stupidly, her eyes flicking downwards. The Varro relaxed, her posture straightening as she fixed her trousers and flushed the toilet.

“10 kilometers ago, I would have considered it,” Lexa teased, “But half the reason I run in the mornings is because you suggested I do,”

The blonde’s smile threatened to impede her brushing, so she hurriedly tipped her head backwards and chuckled, her mind clearing. Lexa smiled and kissed her temple, leaving the bathroom swiftly. Thoughtlessly, Clarke reached out to the wall panel and started up the sonic shower’s settings.

Clarke finished brushing her teeth and started stripping, planning on joining Lexa in her usual routine. As she dropped her tshirt in the laundry chute, Lexa returned, naked, her hair loose.

“May I wash your hair?” Lexa asked after she had ducked into the shower after Clarke. The blonde lifted an eyebrow.

“Sure. Anticipating a bad day?” she turned to let Lexa tend to her hair, and listened as the Varro nearly sighed. It took a moment longer than a normal person would to collect their thoughts, but then again Lexa had never been a thoughtless being.

“It is possible,” she admitted, “Two ensigns were found quarrelling last night. Indra tells me it was a lovers’ feud, involving an entire other couple. Next to that, Jaha is facing a near mutiny for his lack of ingenuity. Injectors are bursting because Lieutenant Murphy is Ornarian, and the rest of engineering is having to replicate plasma coolant at an abnormal rate,”

Despite the building stress in her voice, Lexa’s hands were gentle against her scalp, and by the time her hair was clean, Lexa had detailed a dozen minor things. Clarke turned and wrapped her arms around the Varro. She tipped a kiss to her lips.

“Alright, I’ll deal with engineering. Raven can fix anything and I’ll bet you 10 bucks she’s behind the wheel of the coup,” Lexa’s eyes eased into the adoration Clarke knew they would.

“As compensation, you have to tell me who the ensigns are,” she grinned.

Lexa laughed, and told her. Clarke’s eyes lit.

“Oh! I knew it!” she smirked, then refocused, adjusting the shower to strip the grime from their bodies even as Lexa held her hips in return, “If it’s them, that’s an easy fix,”

At the end of the drying routine, Lexa had cast a grateful look to the blonde. Clarke smiled simply, “As for the rest of it,” she wrinkled her nose, “I don’t know. Ask the First Officer,”

Lexa laughed, and wrapped a hug around the smiling human. She buried a kiss in Clarke’s neck, and fixed her eyes on her.

“Thank you,” she whispered earnestly. Clarke nodded, knowing just how deeply Lexa meant the words.

“You’re welcome,”

They smiled all the way through the morning.

* * *

**Day: 699**

“Captain,” Clarke alerts, reading a chirping scan, “We’re receiving a subspace greeting signal coming from a vessel bearing one two five mark two one. Distance two hundred thousand kilometers,”

“Captain, sensors indicate five lifeforms aboard,” Indra calls.

“We are being hailed,” Lexa adds from her chair. Anya nods.

“On screen,”

The image of a handsome, humanoid-looking man filled the view screen, and Anya leans forward in her seat, her voice clear and high.

“This is Captain Anya Triged of the Federation Starship Ambassador,”

The man smiles, “I am Gathhorel Labin of the planet Sikaris. Please, allow us to welcome you to our system. You are new to us, and we would like to learn about you, and show you the hospitality of our people,”

“That’s very kind of you, Gathhorel,” Anya concedes.

“Please, call me Gath,” the Sikaran airs, “I hope you will view us as friends, and join us on our home world?”

Anya looks to her left, “Commander, what do you know of them?”

Lexa’s expression is impassive.

“Sikaris is known for incredible hospitality and love of others. They have amassed a large collection of other cultures. If we were to request, they might grant us a variety of new edible plants, increasing the hydroponics lab significantly,” she dips her head gracefully, “Not to mention the crew may welcome a little shore leave, Captain,”

Anya nods, turning back to the screen.

“Gath, it looks like you’ll be getting visitors. We’ll set a course and follow you in. Griffin?”

“On it, Captain. We’re locked onto their shuttle and are prepared to follow,”

“Wonderful,” Gath cries, “We could not be happier,”

When the ship had docked, the crew left in teams organized by Lexa to explore the not-exaggerated hospitality and beauty of the planet’s capital city, L’hur. Anya sat with Gath, conversing in casual clothing over cups of tea, and Clarke was immediately grouped with Raven and Octavia as they explored.

“Clarke,” Raven sounded breathless, “Did you see that thing?”

The blonde, dressed in a wrap of bright fabric, nods, “The harp-looking thing? Yeah, the music is beautiful,”

The Betazoid practically rolls her eyes at her, “No, I mean the fact that I think it’s an atmospheric sensor. The frequency of the chimes must function on some kind of non-linear resonance-“

“The girl playing it is freaking hot,” Octavia cuts in, eating some strange-looking fruit, “Let’s have a closer look,”

Clarke laughs and gets pulled along.

As the sun sets, the three are lounging on a pile of rugs and large pillows, talking with a few natives in an atrium of similar groups. Currently, she feels a pull on her shoulder, breaking her out of a conversation about Earth.

“What the fuck is that?” Octavia whispers to her, and Clarke cocks an eyebrow.

“What is what?”

Next to her, Raven points, grimacing, “That,”

Clarke sees it.

Lexa, in a flattering grey jumpsuit Clarke knew was native to the Varro, was sitting, bright red in the ears as three Sikarian women danced sensually in obscenely revealing clothing.

Across the flickering fire separating them, Clarke could see Lexa seated next to Anya, the pair frozen between two other grinning Sikarians who were gesturing offeringly to the girls. Anya’s mouth is working open and shut, her eyes wild like she had made an incredible mistake, and Clarke almost laughed at the unflappable Captain.

Except Lexa is gripping her thighs with startling tension and staring at the space between her feet, and the blonde felt the need to comfort her immediately. Beside her, Octavia is laughing with tears in her eyes.

That is, until one of the dancers seems to grow confused and pushes herself into Lexa’s lap sideways, and loops an arm around her shoulders. Clarke immediately sees red.

“Oh shit,” Raven whispers. Octavia nods, responding with some other appropriate invective.

The Sikarian slides a sneaky mouth to whisper into Lexa’s red-tipped ear, and the Varro stills. Clarke’s mind blanks as her blood roars in her ears, and when she sees the nearly-naked woman open her jaws to clamp a lobe between her teeth, she jolts to her feet.

Almost in tandem, Lexa had stood abruptly, the woman falling from her lap and to the rug ungracefully. The dancer had cried out, and the split in the calm air had drawn attention and silence.

Even from across the atrium, Clarke heard the confused, embarrassed tone, “Uhm. Thank you,” Lexa frowned, almost said more, but shook her head. Stepping over the shocked Sikarian, Lexa felt the hall, leaving Anya to smooth things over with the deeply-concerned natives. Clarke slowly looked back down to her seat.

Octavia was grimacing, and Raven cleared her throat.

“Go, we’ll see you back on the ship,”

Clarke pulled a deep breath and nodded. The journey back to the Ambassador was longer than she remembered, and it was a long shot of a guess as to where Lexa would even go. Strangely enough, Clarke felt a pull to her own quarters and didn’t resist.

Stepping inside, she found Lexa seated on the edge of the bed with her hands clasped, leaning on her knees. Clarke stalled. She bit her lip, trying not to leak frustration.

“You wanna talk about what in the hell just happened?”

Lexa looked up, and for a reason Clarke almost didn’t want to know, saw anger.

“I do not technically have to explain myself, Clarke,”

Clarke froze, her veins turning to ice as Lexa’s meaning set in. And like any good human, her hurt projected in fire. She narrowed her eyes and practically spat.

“Good point. Guess I’ll be going then. I think I saw Bellamy on the way in,”

Lexa’s chest flushed with heat, and they both knew Clarke had said it to intentionally hurt her. The Varro glared darkly, and Clarke set her jaw.

“Do not play with me,” Lexa ground, “We are not mated. I have no reason to reject another advance, but I did,”

Clarke tried to perpetuate her fury. Tried to pretend she didn’t see the tormented questioning Lexa subvocalized.

“I did, and I did it instinctively,” the Varro blunted out. She shot Clarke a green-eyed look of near-blame. The blonde stiffened.

“Well don’t let me stop you from doing whatever, and whoever, you want,” Clarke bittered, straining to project anger over Lexa’s meaning.

The brunette looked surprised, her ire banking.

“That is not what I am trying to say,” she stressed, “I am talking about why I did what I did. What I did because you are in my life,” she flexed her jaw, eyes boring into Clarke’s, expectant.

“We talked about this,” the woman hushed, her heart icing over, “At the very beginning, we said we wouldn’t commit. Not just to the mating thing, but to anything,”

Lexa’s spine snapped straight as she stood swiftly, her expression like thunder.

“Why?” she grit.

Clarke only seethed in response, but Lexa took swift steps toward her.

“Why, Clarke?”

“Because the people I love wind up dead!”

Lexa paused, and Clarke felt the constrictions around her heart tighten, and she pressed on, “My friend Charlotte from the Academy, my brother Aden, my father,” she broke, and Lexa stepped carefully forward. Clarke breathed, trying not to cry.

“So I don’t do commitment, Lexa. It’s a public service at this point,” she gave a dry smile at Lexa’s look of focus. Clarke swallowed, “Do you understand?”

The Varro studied her for a quiet moment, before nodding.

Clarke relaxed minutely before sighing. She cleared her throat again, “Well, there it is. I get it if you’re going to need some time, I will too, but feel free to date whoever you want. I’ll get my clothes from your quarters tomorrow,”

Lexa only looked at her.

Clarke lifted an eyebrow, her heart tearing but she feigned indifferent humor, “Orrr I’ll get them right now,”

As she turned, Lexa’s hand shot out and gripped her around the wrist tightly. The woman spun her around, not relaxing her grip. Clarke frowned.

“Hey, let me go,”

“No,” Lexa whispered.

The blonde tugged away a little, knowing she was no match for the Varro’s strength.

“Lex,” Clarke tried, feeling exhausted. The brunette simply shook her head and closed the distance between them. Lowering her face, Lexa breathed in the warm, clean scent. She released the wrist to tangle Clarke’s fingers in her own gently, bringing it to her lips and laying a breath of a kiss to it.

“I thought it went without saying. You have ruined me for all other women, Clarke Griffin,” Lexa’s eyes pierced while Clarke’s went wide. The Varro’s statement hung in the air before Lexa’s mouth flickered around a smile, “Do you still want your hand back?”

Clarke’s eyes were soft and disbelieving. She bit her lip and attempted a smile.

“I guess I have another,”

Lexa smiled, using that same hand to pull Clarke against her gently. The blonde wrapped her arms around Lexa’s neck, and turned her face upwards.

“You’re the worst,” she whispered, and was treated to Lexa’s rusked laughter.

“I am sorry for that,”

Clarke’s grin was soft and affectionate as she tipped upward onto her toes. Acquiescing, Lexa dipped and landed a small, blanketing kiss to the smooth lips. Clarke hummed at the healing pressure, and something in her chest tightened, snapped, and eased. 

 

* * *

**Day: 740**

Clarke stepped with forced calm through the corridors and into a turbo lift. She made her way up to the bridge and entered the deck at the efficient opening of the doors.

But even the beautiful expanse of space wasn’t enough to lift the black cloud of her mood, and she ignored it in favor of taking in her surroundings. A deep breathe for patience, and she crossed to the Captain’s ready room. She chimed for permission to enter, and did when the door chirped consent.

Lexa’s furrowed brow didn’t look up from where she was bending at the waist over the desk, focused on a PADD of data. The familiar expression nearly caused Clarke to smile. As it were, she looked for Anya.

“The Captain is not here,” Lexa murmured to the data, her eyes flicking over the figures.

The blonde’s voice pitched irritated, “Great,”

Lexa looked up.

“Clarke?”

The Navigator huffed, ignoring the reaction.

“Do you know where she is?”

Lexa rightened, studying the woman before replying slowly, “Resting. I have the bridge,”

Clarke crossed her arms and tapped her foot restlessly. A sure sign of agitation. The taller woman moved toward her easily, not touching her. Every step seemed to bring a change to Lexa’s features, and Clarke’s spine mirrored the calm.

“Clarke, please,” she said gently, and Clarke practically watched the rank drop out from their uniforms, “What is wrong?”

Her head aching, Clarke finally stepped and collapsed against her lover, whining pitifully.

“My day’s sucked,” Her vocals pitched lower when she felt Lexa’s chest rumble with subdued laughter, “It’s not funny,”

“Of course,” the brunette comforted lightly, “I am sorry. Tell me about it?”

Clarke head butted her minutely before sighing.

“I overslept because I forgot to tell the computer to wake me after you left, and then the acoustic inverter in the sonic shower blew out,” Lexa hummed, letting her know she was listening, “So I didn’t have time for breakfast, and then Wells cancelled the fuel cell overhaul, so the astrometics lab keeps shutting down,”

Clarke leaned back to breathe and continued, Lexa’s emerald eyes soft and sympathetic.

“And the B’omar Sovereignty Representatives rejected a course plan _again_. They want us to take all of our scanners, communication systems, and weapons systems offline just to take the most fucked up route through their space possible, at a maximum of warp 2. Their plan will take us two months,”

Lexa’s lips twitched before reining it is.

“The B’omar may be a bit… xenophobic,”

“They’re dicks,” Clarke blunted.

Lexa hummed, smiling slightly.

“Would you like I should help with negotiations?”

The blonde seemed to brighten, “You mean the ‘Hi I’m Varro, Yes I Can Vouch for the Filthy Humans Route’, or the ‘Hi I’m Commander He’da and I Can Kick Your Ass Route’?”

Lexa considered this delicately, “The latter seems more diplomatic,”

Clarke grinned, sparing a kiss to the tall woman’s lips, her hands spreading along her shoulders.

“You’d be a life saver, babe. You should consider politics,”

Lexa hummed through a smile, indulging in a kiss to Clarke’s cheek.

“I also know how to replace an acoustic inverter,”

Clarke gasped dramatically.

“Al’Lexa He’da, you stop that. You know what maintenance does to me,”

Lexa’s eyes sparkled, “Jaha is also terrified of me. I can make him rush the overhaul if you like,”

“You’re turning me on, Lex, stop it,” Clarke whipped, her smile wide. Lexa winked before drawing slightly more serious. She cast a probing look to the blonde.

“Are you feeling better?”

Clarke took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah,” she smiled easily, “Thanks,”

Lexa nodded.

“I will see you for dinner?

“Wouldn’t miss it, gorgeous,”

* * *

**Day: 812**

Lexa opened her eyes. She frowned, blinking rapidly. The last thing she remembered, she was on the bridge, Anya’s voice echoing around the words ‘red alert’.

When Lexa’s eyes cleared, her internal organs rolled unpleasantly, but she was otherwise unharmed. She found herself in some kind of light-lit kitchen. Earth?

“What is this place?” a rasping voice asked to her left.

“Clarke,” she called, her eyes lighting on the blonde in relief, and she crossed the steps to the woman, almost needing to touch her.

“I’m fine,” Clarke replied, her blue eyes confused but clear. She glanced over the brunette’s frame, confirming the same with relief.

“Where are we?”

The pair turned to see Indra, her hand grasping Octavia’s to help her stand. They stood in a dining room of an Earth house. Lexa tensed as she looked around and opened her tricorder, set to area scan. She frowned even harder, “I do not know. But from my reading, we have almost certainly left Ambassador. I might be able to-,”

She cut off at the sound of footsteps on hardwood. The group snapped their eyes toward the movements, and Lexa’s eyes widened when she saw – Clarke.

The blonde was dressed casually in flattering yoga pants and a tank top, and her hair was much shorter than it was now, her features refined and slightly older. The woman was humming and started to make tea, not glancing at the Starfleet officers.

The four stared until the junior officer moved.

“Uhm,” Octavia tried, addressing Second-Clarke, “Hey!”

The blonde ignored her. Lexa flexed her jaw.

“Excuse me,” she starts, raising a hand to gain the woman’s attention. She is pointedly refused, and she exchanged a look with Clarke. Their confused expressions snap back to their surroundings as a door opens somewhere, and Second-Clarke lights up in expected excitement.

The pitter-patter of small, rapid feet, and next to Lexa, Clarke takes a small, steeling gasp of air. A little girl no more than 5 Earth-revolutions aged tramples her way into the kitchen with a joyful shout.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

Second-Clarke laughs and lifted the child into her arms, “Hi baby, did you have a good time at your sleepover?”

The girl nodded simply, her blue eyes sharp and happy. Her mahogany curls bounced as she did so, and Lexa felt her heart constricting at the sight. Something horrible was curling in her stomach. Something akin to an awful type of hope.

“Yeah?” Second-Clarke has continued, smiling, “Where’s Mama?”

The girl pointed behind her, and Second-Clarke suddenly grinned and placed the girl back down.

“Hey there,” the blonde greeted, just as a slim, familiar figure stepped into the kitchen.

Second-Lexa’s smile was unrestrained and free as she slid coolly around Second-Clarke, an easy kiss shared between them. Her lips curled as she crooned out a welcoming, “Good morning,”

Clarke’s throat constricted. She shot a glance to Lexa, and felt her chest quake. The brunette’s usual stoicism had been shot and buried, as the Varro watched the scene with awed scrutiny. Around her, Indra’s eyes had narrowed and Octavia looked close to confused laughter.

“How was she?” Second-Clarke whirred against the rosy lips.

Second-Lexa skimmed her nose along Second-Clarke’s and gave a brief hum, “Indra said she was most definitely our daughter,”

Second-Clarke gave a harsh, bright, laugh, “That’s… not good, is it?”

Second-Lexa loosened an answered breath of a smile, her nose sliding into the honey blonde hair, right where Lexa always loved to sneak deeply perfumed kisses. With her arms wrapped intimately around Second-Clarke, Second-Lexa inhaled with relish.

“This time, it was not such a detractor,” she laughed, “She was apparently the chief toddler among them, elected to tell a bedtime story,”

Second-Clarke broke into deep, rusking laughter as she buried her face in the taller woman’s neck. Once she was over her laughing fit, she gave a soothed hum against the woman holding her.

“I missed her last night,” she scoffed, “Is that insane?”

The brunette lifted a brow, “I sincerely hope you are joking, Clarke. Last night was the first time we did not have to stop half way through,”

Second-Clarke gave an impatient swat to the Varro’s rear, rolling her eyes, “Don’t be a pig. You know what I mean,”

Second-Lexa smiled into the flaxen locks and hummed deep in her chest. More softly, she whispered.

“I missed her too,”

The ensuing silence was only broken by the choked smoke of Clarke’s breathless voice, “Lexa,” she nearly hitched as she watched the little girl – their little girl - return, “What is this place?”

“It is the future,”

Lexa whirled around, pushing Clarke behind her. Indra took a fighting stance and Octavia gave a small scream of surprise. The woman reeled as she found a kindly-looking old man smiling at them all serenely, his eyes fixed on the comfortable picture behind them.

“What did you say?” Clarke edged out from behind the protective stance, “You said this is… the future?” she felt like crying.

The man nodded.

“It is 10 earth-years into the future, in fact,”

While Lexa’s heart was thumping rapidly in her chest, Indra whirled into motion, taking the man’s throat into her hand and squeezing.

“Indra!” Octavia shouted, alarmed.

“You are lying,” the Klingon growled, her teeth flashing sharply, “I am not going to survive 7 years. I will not be alive 10 years into the future,” her grip tightened, and Lexa’s sensibilities finally returned.

“Tell us the truth,” she roiled, advancing as well, “What is this place?”

The man strained and gasped out a stalled, “Yes- yes! O-kay!”

“Indra,” Lexa nodded, her jaw tight. The Klingon growled, but released the frail-looking man. He breathed hard and swallowed a few times.

“I apologize for the deceit,” he gave a wobbly sort of smile, “It is policy, though,” a chuckle, and Clarke’s brow furrowed.

“Whose policy?” she piped up, the blue-eyed girl’s smile ringing behind her eyes.

The man continued to smile apologetically, “I can’t tell you that. But all you need to know is that you are being held here, asleep, and my brothers and I are currently in talks with your Captain,”

“What do you want?” Indra rumbled. The man held his hands up.

“We only seek stories,”

“Stories?” Clarke repeated. The alien nodded.

“As you see, we deal in fantasy,” he waved a hand over the frozen, happy family of three, his eyes wistful, “Nothing is more valuable to us than this,”

Clarke exchanged a look with Lexa, who only flexed her jaw.

“You have relayed this to the Captain?”

He dipped his head, “She is very confused,” he sigh, “We should have picked her, instead. You seem to catch on quickly,”

Lexa ignored this, instead pressing, “And you are able to contact your brothers? Contact the Captain?”

He tipped his head, “Oh yes,”

“Let two of us go, and I will tell you exactly what to ask for,”

The old man looked surprised.

“You’re willing to relinquish your stories?”

“For the price of our lives. Let two of us wake, and I will give you the information the Captain will not think to offer,”

Smiling again, the old man bowed his head for a few moments, before nodding.

“My brothers have agreed,”

Instantly, Octavia and Indra vanished. Lexa breathed, and nodded.

“Request for a copy of the complete Federation library,” the man lifted his eyebrows, and Lexa kept on, “We have access to every great piece of literature from thousands upon thousands of cultures,”

The man’s face lit.

“You are honorable, Lexa,” he smiled, “Thank you. Please. Wait here for a while, this won’t take long. Your Captain is already amenable. You are in Clarke’s dream, so you will not be harmed,” and with that, he vanished.

The pair were left alone, and Lexa couldn’t help but glance once more to the little girl her doppelgänger has picked up.

“Lexa,” the blonde started hesitantly, “About this… the dream,” her voice quailed, and the Varro looked on her with such depth in her emerald eyes. She smiled quietly.

“Do not worry. Clarke, I think you know by now that I-,” Lexa swallowed. “I lo-“

“This is the Captain to Commander He’da! Commander, please respond,”

And just like that, the air between them dissipated. Lexa didn’t flinch, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s.

“We’re here,”

Anya’s voice was relieved as she relayed more instructions. Something about how to wake up by tapping the backs of their hands three times. Before complying, the Varro gave a weak sort of smile.

“I thought you should know,” she said quietly.

A moment later, and Lexa disappeared.

Clarke’s breath hitched, and her blue eyes watered. Lexa’s features had refused to apologize. She knew Lexa didn’t expect anything from her. Didn’t want Clarke to say only what she wanted to hear. Because it wasn’t about hearing it for Lexa, it never had been.

The blonde breathed in every soundless way Lexa showed her how she felt, and exhaled every mute moment she returned it.

Surely, by not speaking it of it, not even whispering, she could keep Lexa safe. Safe from that one word tragedy.

Surely.

* * *

**Day: 982**

“Reyes to Griffin,”

Clarke whirled around the cosmos in deep thought in the lab, but paused to tap her badge.

“Griffin here, go ahead,”

“Clarke,” Raven’s voice sounded, her tone breaking Clarke’s focus at the slow, confused sort of drawl, “Uh, there’s sort of a situation in the mess,”

“Personnel issues go to the First Officer,” the blonde said slowly, “What kind of situation?”

“That’s sort of it,” Raven’s voice seemed to break in a laugh, “I think Lexa’s drunk,”

Clarke paused, “What?”

“Yeah,”

Right. I’m on my way to sickbay. Can you arrange to get her there?”

“Thank God. Absolutely. Reyes, out,”

When Clarke had made it to the sickbay doors, her mind buzzed with a teeter between dread and intense excitement. Sitting up over the edge of a bed, Lexa was looking around her in confusion as Raven had her arms crossed, Octavia having stuffed a fist into her teeth.

“How is she?” Clarke asked, crossing to the three, her eyes scanning Lexa superficially.

“Clarke!” the Varro crowed, a smile sloshed across her attractive features. The blonde froze, her eyes blowing wide while Octavia whimpered in hysteria behind her fist, “You look beautiful, Clarke!”

Shifting, Lexa reached those long arms out and dragged her forward, snuffling into Clarke’s hair like a puppy before trying to kiss her full on the mouth. Shocked, Clarke leaned backwards sharply and glanced at a smirking Raven, “Where’s Lincoln? Monty?”

The Betazoid tipped her head, “Monty’s in the science lab, analyzing some of her blood,”

The blonde nodded, “I’ll go look in on him, then,” As she stepped, Lexa’s so composed voice warbled childishly in interruption, her hands tightening around Clarke’s.

“Claaaarke,” Lexa whined, her expression folded in devastation, “Do not leave,”

The blonde bit her lip, stifling a loud burst of laughter. Raven started breathing deeply and clearing her throat every so often. Octavia took a few steps away. Clarke tipped her head at Raven.

“What’re you picking up?”

The Betazoid glared at her, “Inebriation. I don’t know what caused it, but the First Officer here is pissed drunk. With all the emotions that comes with,” she focused, her black eyes shimmering as she stared at Lexa, “She thinks she loves you,” the woman paused, and rolled her eyes, “Also that you have the best breasts in the Quadrant,”

Clarke cleared her throat and desperately tucked her lips into her mouth as she took another glance to the snuffling First Officer. Lexa really was adorable.

“Alright, that’s it. I’m gone,” Raven flurried, throwing a hand up and making to exit the sickbay. Octavia huffed out her barely-contained hilarity.

“If it’s alright with you, Lt. Commander. I’ll be taking my leave as well,”

The navigator gave a forgiving sigh and nod of her head, watching the pair leave. She bit a smile back at the woman before her. The Varro was struggling to reaming sitting up, and Clarke moved to assist her.

“Clarke,” Lexa tried, for some reason running her tongue over the sharper tips of her canine teeth interestedly, “Clarke,”

“Lexa,” the navigator mimicked humorously.

The brunette shot her a pleased grin, more a smear of an expression than anything, “I know,” she sniffed the air and glanced sharply away, before focusing again, completely forgetting what had captured her attention in the first place, “Sex,” she tripped out, “the _olan’vora_ ,” she nodded.

Clarke felt herself still, and half of her wondered if she shouldn’t stop the Varro.

“I know you think I am-“ she paused, “ _it is_ ,” a self-satisfied nod, “just some kind of tradition. But,” the green eyes lit as they looked into Clarke’s own, some clear, innocent sort of hope in them, “But Clarke, I love you. I really do,” Lexa smiled so softly, Clarke knew she’d never be able to even kiss that gently.

“I would like to list the reasons why, if you would allow it,”

The blonde bit her lip and stared into Lexa’s unguarded eyes. This was wrong. She knew it, but the weight of Lexa’s trust, her love, her hand as it slipped into Clarke’s – it felt too good. Too real. She swallowed as she glanced at that hand in hers.

“Lex, I don’t-“

“Clarke,” the Varro interrupted, “I realize I am… compromised,” the woman smiled dully and tilted her head, “But I am here, I promise you,”

Clarke simply breathed and nodded. At least they were alone while Lexa got whatever she needed to out of her system. Looking thrilled, the Varro squeezed her hand slightly.

“I love you not for what you can give to me, Clarke,” she looked earnestly into the cerulean eyes she adored, “But for who I believe I can be when I am with you,” Lexa shuffled forward, to bury her face into Clarke’s neck, and the blonde reflexively held the Varro to her.

“Clarke, you are good, and whole, and wonderful,” the brunette murmured, “It pains me when you are gone,”

“Lex, it’s alright,” she said softly, carding a hand through the silken locks, her free fingers skimming the softest hair at Lexa’s neck, “I’m here, gorgeous,” she smiled despite herself, “I’m right here,”

Lexa wrapped inhumanly strong arms around her, but the gentlest of pressures succeeded the movement, “I love you, Clarke,”

The blonde bit her lip, and felt her throat start to close. There were too many things to say in response to that. For now, though, “I know, Lexa, I know you do,”

Her fingertips brushed the top of Lexa’s ridged spine, and the woman gave a great shuddering of breath, a whine slipping through her teeth. Clarke smiled through wanting to cry.

“No, Clarke,” the brunette groaned pitifully, burying her nose into Clarke’s neck further, “Do not want to sleep,”

“Just for a minute, Lex,” the blonde crooned, her fingers continuing their simple strokes over Lexa’s sensitive spine, “Close your eyes just a minute, I’ll be right here, baby, alright?”

Lexa’s muscles relaxed, her eyes slipping shut as a gentle purr tripped out of her chest. Another few, slow passes, and Lexa slumped against the blonde heavily. Not stopping her movements, Clarke did her best to lay Lexa down on the bay bed properly. She migrated from stroking Lexa’s spine, to her neck, up to her small, soft ear. Then, she gently traced the curves of Lexa’s fine features, and Clarke felt her throat tighten as she stared at this beautiful woman.

“I love you too,” she whispered brokenly, “I’m so sorry,”

A few more selfish minutes, and Clarke breathed before tapping her comm badge, “Griffin to Dr. Reed,”

The deep, settled voice reached her ears, “Go ahead,”

“I’m in sickbay with the First Officer. She needs attention,”

The Doctor’s voice frowned, “I’m headed to you,”

An interesting bioscan of Monty’s analysis later, and it was added to the Starship’s medical journals that Varro, as a species, were intolerant to the aroma of the Romulan Kali-fal that Octavia had replicated.

Lincoln had frowned, “Why was Octavia replicating Kali-fal?” he asked gingerly. Clarke smiled widely and clapped the Romulan on the shoulder.

“Once I figure out how to have a personal life on this boat, I’ll let you know,” the man smiled bashfully, and Clarke tried not to roll her eyes, “So when will she wake up?”


	2. There's Coffee In That Nebula

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I hurt, but try to make up for it.  
> Without further ado,

**Day: 1090**  

Clarke gave an absentminded snuffle into the softness of Lexa’s shirt, her eyes on the holoscreen across Lexa’s living room. She was seated between Lexa’s legs, the Varro reading behind her. The muted screen of Lexa’s PADD squiggled characters Clarke wasn’t familiar with from where Lexa had wrapped an arm around her and positioned it to where she could still read. Moments of quiet while the holoscreen played, and Clarke felt the Varro shift to sip at her tea. Taking the cue, Clarke glanced and scrolled the page on Lexa’s PADD for her, immediately refocusing on her own screen.

The two sat in comfortable silence, Clarke enjoying the subtitles for the old Earth-drama currently playing. She was warm and perfectly reclined, Lexa’s skin that fresh-shower steam of clean, tepid heat.

Clarke heard another sip, and she scrolled Lexa’s page distractedly. Her heart was beating, and Lexa was comfortable, and Clarke soaked in the perfection of this moment without labeling it.

Lexa shifted, and Clarke hummed as the brunette leaned to skim her nose around Clarke’s jaw, pressing a kiss to the woman’s neck. Already relaxed, the blonde only melted further into the Varro.

She had once asked Lexa why the woman did that so often. The brunette had entered the astrometics lab and greeted Clarke not with a kiss to the lips, but with a smooth and practiced kiss behind the woman’s jaw.

Lexa had furrowed her brow, apparently unaware either that this was irregular, or that she had such a propensity for it.

“You smell,” she had struggled for words, and Clarke only waited, “Happy,”

“Happy?”

Lexa flexed her jaw, unsatisfied.

“You smell like joy and bright, but with deepness,” she grimaced, “It is hard to explain,”

Clarke smirked, “Obviously,”

The Varro glared before the blonde laughed and crossed to fold herself into Lexa’s arms. Settled, the taller woman hummed and went on.

“You smell strongest here,” she skimmed the area behind Clarke’s jaw, below her ear, “It reminds me of sex and laughter,”

Clarke smiled, “Wow. I would definitely buy a candle scented ‘Sex and Laughter’,”

A swipe along Lexa’s nose had her smiling along, and Clarke placed a chaste kiss to the upturned lips. Truly, the woman’s answer had been more than Clarke ever expected, and her heart beat a little bit lopsided whenever Lexa kissed her neck now.

Presently, the blonde felt a swallow of tea, and she looked to scroll Lexa’s PADD naturally.

“What’s for dinner?”

Lexa grunted in an indecisive fashion.

“Whatever you are making for dinner,”

Clarke laughed and tapped at the woman’s leg in reprimand. Lexa’s lips turned, and she set her reading aside to slip her now free hand up and onto Clarke’s bare stomach, stroking the soft skin effusively.

“I don’t wanna cook,” Clarke whined, “I could replicate us some Chinese? You liked the kung pao last time,”

“I did not,”

“You did,”

“I do not enjoy noodle-shaped edibles,”

“I know,” Clarke fluttered lazily, “Which is why you didn’t like the lo mein, but liked the kung pao,”

Lexa shifted, “That is backwards,”

“What do I get when I prove you wrong?”

“The same thing I get when you are incorrect,”

Clarke grinned before calling to the holoscreen, “Computer, show me American-Chinese beef lo mein,”

An image of the greasy, decorative, and very much be-noodled dish took over from her show, and Lexa groaned from behind her. Clarke twisted in her hold, triumphant. The Varro laughed but nodded.

“Fine, yes. You were right, I was wrong, mighty Chief science officer,” Lexa smirked wickedly, taking Clarke to the sofa and tickling at her sides, “You are smart and beautiful, and I am lowly and weak,”

The blonde laughed and captured Lexa’s hands, kissing her wrists, victory in her blue eyes. She had been promoted to head the science department as a part of Ambassador’s 2.5-year mark in the Delta quadrant, and Lexa had never quite stopped celebrating.

“What will you take for your prize, righteous one?”

Clarke grinned, “You have to get up and get the food from Monroe,”

Lexa groaned and collapsed against the woman.

“Why from Ensign Monroe? My replicator is perfectly functional,”

The blonde continued to chuckle, “The mess has the only replicator that gets egg rolls right. Come on, babe, a deal’s a deal,”

Lexa lifted and shot Clarke a glare before rolling her eyes.

“Very well,”

Clarke gave a faux cheer, accepting the kiss Lexa dropped to her cheek and started to pull her uniform on. Clarke sat up and diverted her attention back to the holoscreen, tucking her legs under her.

“Lo mein, kung pao, egg rolls, anything else?” Lexa asked, standing directly in Clarke’s view of the screen. She smirked.

“White rice,” the blonde bit, glaring. The Varro woman nodded and turned, earning a swat to her rear from the seated woman. Clarke simply winked and Lexa scoffed on her way out.

A few minutes passed in silence, and the comm badge fastened to Clarke’s tshirt chirped.

“Reyes to Griffin,”

“Hey, Raven,” the blonde replied distantly, eyes still on the subtitles. She was never going to finish this show.

“Yo,” the Betazoid replied easily, “I’m just looking at a sexy, sexy, supergiant 16 light years away that your scanners picked up,”

Clarke smiled, “Aw, you do treat me right,” Department head she may be, but her love for astrometrics would never die. She shuffled off the couch to Lexa’s desk and back, flipping open her personal computer. While Raven laughed, she felt her heart soften at Lexa’s background image of a binary pulsar system. She settled on the couch.

“Okay, I sent you the preliminary data,”

Clarke hummed, logging in and glancing over the readings.

“You were right, it’s definitely a supergiant,” she squinted, “Red-class, from what I can tell,”

“You can tell already?”

“Mhmm,” Clarke’s focus only broke briefly at Lexa’s return, and she covered her badge, mouthing, ‘ _Raven’_.

Lexa nodded, setting the food on the table and letting Clarke work. She changed once more, and relaxed on the couch next to her lover. Peering interestedly at the read outs, she started to prepare to eat.

“Hmm,” Clarke kept on, “You know, the frequencies look a lot like the Vandor system’s red giant,”

“What’s that mean?” Raven inquired.

“Well, that means it’s perfectly safe to travel past, for one. It’s middle-aged, by star standards. Not expected to go white for another couple hundred thousand years,”

Lexa nudged her, frowning lightly, making an ‘and’ gesture with her chopsticks. Clarke frowned.

“Uhm, also,” she quirked an eyebrow, “I don’t know, hold on,”

“What?” she whispered. Lexa huffed a smile.

“Pulsar,”

“Pulsar? Oh! Pulsar!” Clarke lit, her eyes going to the screen again, “Raven, tell me if we ping any electron bursts exceeding the speed of light. If we find a neutron star, it could be a pulsar!”

“Uh, okay?”

Lexa smiled at the blonde’s ecstatic expression, and Clarke fluttered through the rest.

“It means that if it’s an active pulsar within range of the red giant, we’re about to enter into a binary star system! If we do that, we can find the barycenter and map an entire new sector reference point for the Delta Quadrant!

Raven was nearly laughing, “Right. Will do, Clarke,”

“Thanks so much. I have to go, I’m off duty anyway. Griffin, out,” she cut the comm and turned to the smiling Varro. Throwing her arms around her neck, Lexa landed on the sofa with a laughing Clarke on top of her, attempting to smother her in kisses.

“You’re brilliant,” the woman finally breathed. Lexa relaxed into the couch and hummed, stroking Clarke’s back where her shirt rode up.

“I am happy to help,”

“I’m sure,” Clarke purred. She kissed her chastely, “First Chinese,” another kiss, “Then sex,” a final kiss, “Deal?”

Lexa laughed, “I enjoy dealings with you,” 

* * *

**Day: 1129**  

Clarke was two hours into a shift on the helm, when Lexa’s mild voice called to the Captain.

“Captain, scans are picking up a spatial disturbance two thousand kilometers away,”

“Source?”

Lexa’s jaw flexed, “I have no idea. It looks as if space is folding in on itself,”

Anya braced herself.

“Shields to full,”

“Aye, Captain,” Indra responded.

Suddenly, the viewscreen flipped to an image of a small spaceship, the Ambassador automatically enhancing the image. Lexa tapped her chair’s arm controls.

“It is an alien vessel, uncataloged, one occupant aboard,”

Clarke squinted at her own controls.

“Captain,” she cleared, “it looks like that ship is being powered by a.. coaxial warp drive,”

Anya frowned, “Coaxial what?”

Clarke shook her head in amazement.

“It’s a hypothetical propulsion system. Starfleet engineers have been dreaming about it for years,” she twisted, “In theory, if can literally fold the fabric of space, allowing a ship to travel instantaneously across huge distances. It’s amazing,”

“It is also overheating,” Lexa cut in, “The alien warp drive is approaching combustion,”

“Indra,” Anya whipped, “Damage assessment?”

The Klingon shook her head, “Too advanced to estimate with confidence, Captain. Griffin?”

The blonde worked it out in her head, “On a craft that size, if it really works, a coaxial drive explosion could collapse space within a radius of a billion kilometers. In theory,”

Anya sat squarely, “Let’s keep it a theory, then. Red alert!”

The bridge swam into a flash of red light, and all power systems were diverted to shields and photon systems.

“Scan the vessel,” Lexa called, “Can we beam the pilot out?”

“Too much interference,” Murphy grunted from Ops.

Clarke called back, “That ship’s about had it, Captain. The coaxial core is breaching. We have to do something,”

“I’m open to suggestions, Griffin,”

Clarke scrambled, speaking as she thought, “A symmetric warp field,” she started, “That should contain any instabilities in his space-folding core,”

Anya didn’t look pleased. Lexa nodded at her, and Clarke relaxed into her mind’s current.

“Advanced subspace geometry. We’ll tractor him in to kill his momentum, and generate a warp field around his ship. It’ll work, Captain,”

Indra’s rasp sounded, “His flightpath is erratic. We risk collision. I suggest we vacate this area of space at once,”

The Ruji flicked a glance to Lexa, who looked patently calm.

“Calculations indicate that not even an escape at warp 9 would outrun the core’s explosion,”

Anya settled, looking to Clarke.

“Do it,”

Clarke immediately spun in her chair and set to work, her fingers flying over the navigational and piloting helm.

“I’m passing through the residual folds in space,” she narrated, “Steady,” her hands didn’t so much as tremble, guiding the tractor beam manually.

“Got him!”

“I’ve extended our warp field around his vessel,” Indra supplied, “The core is powering down,”

“We are receiving a hail, Captain,” Lexa gave.

“Open a channel,” Anya nodded, “This is Captain Triged of the Federation Starship Ambassador. Do you need medical attention?”

On screen, a female-looking humanoid with an elaborate nose to forehead structure, with a pair of nostrils at the top and bottom appeared.

“I’m fine, Captain. Unfortunately, my ship is not,”

Anya nodded, her fingertips together.

“If you need to make repairs, we might be able to help. One of our officers seems to have some knowledge of your technology,”

The alien nodded, “That’s very generous,”

“We’ll beam you aboard in a few minutes. Stand by,”

The screen cut, and Anya cast a look to Clarke, “I hope you don’t mind, Griffin. And I’d also feel more comfortable if Comander He’da went with you to greet our guest,”

The blonde stood and nodded, “Not at all, Captain,” she gave an easy smile, “I’m kind of excited, actually,”

Lexa only gave an inward laugh at Clarke, and followed her onto the turbolift. Once Clarke announced the transported room as her destination, she turned and kissed Lexa deeply, separating with a smile. She winked.

“Who’s the best pilot in the Quadrant?”

Lexa laughed, Clarke’s mood infectious. She touched her forehead to Clarke’s affectionately.

“You are very clever, Starbright. That was very well done,”

Clarke glowed, happy as a girl in the shower of Lexa’s praise. A final quick kiss, and the pair stepped out of the lift. On their arrival, Lexa nodded to the transport operator.

“Energize,” she called, posture corrected with her hands behind her back.

At the word, the alien began to appear in the starry revolutions of beam. Fully materializing, Lexa dipped her head.

“Welcome. I am Commander He’da,” a glance to Clarke, “And this is Lt. Commander Griffin, she is the one who devised the method we used to rescue you,”

The alien stepped forward and smiled.

“Thank you so much, Commander. I know you put yourselves in danger. I’m Echo,”

“I am glad we could help,” Lexa eased. Echo hesitated at Lexa’s cool tone, but she nodded, trying for a smile.

“I was so eager to test my new engine, I pushed it beyond its limits,”

Clarke stepped in, “Coaxial warp doesn’t seem to be the smoothest way to travel,”

Echo looked relieved to find the Commander’s companion much more amicable, “It’s a violent procedure, but it allows a ship to travel through space at incredible speeds,”

Lexa’s jaw flexed, “Considering the dangers, this method of travel hardly seems logical,”

Echo gave another start, her lips trying to twitch, “Heh. Well, that’s probably true, but if I were worrying about danger, I wouldn’t have become a test pilot,” she smiled at Clarke and back to Lexa, “Are you Vulcan?”

Clarke nearly winced. Lexa hated that question. Dear God, how she hated it. The navigator hurriedly cut in, “Where are you from?”

Echo gave them both an interested look before replying, “The fourth planet of the Benthan system. About twenty light years from here,”

Clarke smiled, “Well, we’ll see about helping you with repairs. Without your coaxial drive, that’s a long way home,” she looked to Lexa, “Echo and I’ll stop by engineering to gather some data, and then see what there’s to be done about Echo’s ship. Sound alright?”

Echo looked keenly between the two, and Lexa gave a minute drop of her head. Clarke smiled and lead the way to engineering. She quickly found she liked Echo’s company, the test pilot charming and quick to share. They compared stories of their travels, and Echo talked of her love for excitement.

“Don’t you feel that way?”

It was hours later, and Clarke laughed aboard Echo’s ship, wrist deep in an extanium fuselage.

“I used to,” she admitted freely, “But things change,”

Echo watched her without Clarke’s knowing, a deep-set kind of hunger in her eyes.

“How’s that possible? You seem so full of passion and desire,” she circled around to Clarke, her eyes clean and open, “Hey, when I get back I’m going to be doing the first test on a new Mithran class flyer. I’m told it’s more advanced than any warship yet. Why don’t you come with me? We’d have a great time. You could meet up with Voyager afterwards!”

Clarke was smiling in full, picturing it in her head. It’s true, before she fell in love with the sciences, she was an ace in the cockpit, and today only reminded her of it. Still, the image set before her were fractured in a small, flawed way.

“That’s a great offer, Echo, thank you. It sounds exciting and I’d love to,” Clarke’s smile pursed, her tone turning apologetic, “But I have responsibilities here, people who count on me, my friends, Lexa,” she stilled, “Lexa!”

Clarke gathered her things hurriedly, Echo looking confused, “I’m sorry, I have to go,”

Beaming aboard Ambassador, Clarke tried not to rush into the mess hall. She cringed and sat fluidly across from Lexa.

“So,” Clarke braced, “You started without me,”

The Varro lifted an eyebrow, “I finished without you. You are a little late. Monroe has stopped serving dinner,”

Clarke groaned, “I’m so sorry, Lexa. I was helping Echo with her ship, and we were talking, and that drive is just amazing-“ she bit her lip, “I’m sorry,”

Lexa merely twitched her lips at her, rolling her eyes. She reached to the table next to them and set a container of food in front of Clarke.

“Italian lasagna, red sauce, with basil,” she annunciated thickly. Lexa’s original language, a rough, guttural thing, has always found the soft, rolling syllables in ‘lasagna’ to be very odd to Lexa’s tongue. It made Clarke cough over a laugh every time, and Lexa knew it.

The blonde went soft in appreciation. Lexa spoiled her.

“Don’t make me come over there and kiss you,” Clarke threatened gratefuly. Lexa’s ears went pink, and she glanced around the nearly-deserted mess before allowing herself to smile.

“Clarke,” she recovered and chided, “This is where the crew eats. That is inappropriate,”

The blonde merely winked around a mouthful of pasta, and Lexa started in on asking after Echo. Through bites, Clarke was able to relay the general gist of the problem, as well as an approximation of Echo’s character.

Lexa nodded, pleased.

“Do you have any estimate on how long repairs will take?”

“Two or three days, at the most. We have to figure out a way to stabilize the particles in the induction drive. The instabilities keep overloading the engine. Once we figure out how to cool it, we’ll install it, and then she’ll be on her way,”

Lexa tipped her head, then opened her personal tablet, thinking.

“What is it?” Clarke asked. Lexa found what she was looking for, and turned it to the scientist.

“What if you look for a way to cool not externally, but internally?”

Clarke brightened. On the screen, was an ancient Earth carburetor, “Lexa, that’s genius,” she smiled, “Definitely, there will be kissing after dinner,”

The Varro dipped her head cordially, and Clarke turned the conversation to her, wondering what Lexa had filled the rest of her day with.

It was routine, as was the next day.

Clarke met Echo aboard the alien’s ship and ran through her idea. The woman was ecstatic with the breakthrough.

“I figure we can use a type of carburetor to dilute the particle stream as it enters the coaxial drive, giving it a mixture of vaporized fuel and air,”

“And you think we could use a polaric modulator for that?”

Clarke nodded excitedly, “Ambassador’s bound to have a spare of two from the impulse drive,”

“Subatomic dilution!” Echo delighted, restating. She leaned against her ship’s wall, impressed, “Wow, Clarke, that’s really impressive. It never would have occurred to me,”

The blonde laughed, “Well, to be fair, it didn’t really occur to me either,”

Echo smiled in confusion, before Clarke explained.

“I was having dinner with Lexa, and she thought of the concept. I did the rest, though,” Clarke laughed, and Echo went interested.

“So, Lexa,” she started, “That’s… Commander He’da, right?”

“Yeah. She’s really not so bad, I promise. First impressions aren’t her strong suit. When we first met, I bought her a drink and she pretty much told me to beam myself,”

Clarke laughed at the memory, and refocused, Echo’s eyes light.

“It sounds like you have a pretty good things going here on Ambassador,” the woman allowed, “You have Lexa, replicators to feed you, clothe you, holotechnology to cater to every whim. Hallways filled with men and woman. You’re lucky to be stationed here,”

“I am,” the blonde answered readily, “I love it here. Anyways, I figure we can run some simulations on the holodeck, before we actually try it,”

Echo smiled, “Sounds good,”

By lunch, they had it figured out.

By dinner, the repairs were nearly finished.

Clarke stepped backwards with a satisfied smiled, wiping her hands on a rag.

“Okay, everything here looks great. You should be good to go tomorrow morning. Just give me one more second to check the flow field parameters,”

“Go ahead,” Echo’s voice was low, almost bored.

Clarke turned, and found the woman handling one of her wrenches. The blonde smiled in confusion.

“What’re you doing?”

“Sorry, Clarke,” the woman smiled, “I had to borrow this. Should’ve asked,”

Clarke felt a tingling in her stomach, chilling up her spine. She attempted joke, “To check your new carburetor?”

Echo took it as more funny than it was, laughing for too long. She smiled, something sinister in her eyes as she stepped forward slowly.

“Not quite,” she stealthed, “You’re the first humans I’ve met. And that wrench had enough cellular residue on it to for me to check your DNA. I have good news. We’re compatible,”

Echo’s arm shot out, her hand gripping Clarke around the throat. The blonde struggles and tries to cry, but Echo’s strength far surpasses her own. Clarke’ vision starts to blur around the corners, but she sees Echo’s skin crawl.

Literally.

Before she knows it, Echo’s eyes have rolled in her head, and when they refocused, they were sky blue. The last thing Clarke sees is herself, Echo’s smirk on her lips.

“Don’t worry, Clarke. Ambassador’s a great ship, and you have a great life. I promise to take care of it. Goodbye,”

With that, Clarke blacks out.

Echo smiles, flexing her newly stolen hands. Clarke’s body is weak, and… top heavy. She looks down to her new breasts and smiles a small bit. An unexpected perk. Lovely.

She taps Clarke’s com badge.

“Lt. Commander Griffin to beam,”

“Right away, Commander,” was the prompt reply. Echo smirked. And rank. Another perk.

Once aboard, Clarke’s body received smiling salutes and friendly nods. Echo briefly grimaced when she remembered that Clarke was a naturally friendly creature. Still, it would be hard to be a pissant aboard a ship this nice.

A covert look to the ship’s layout, and Echo grinned. The mess hall.

She made her way down to the area and found it empty. She checked the time, 2300, and shrugged.

It took a few moments to figure out how to use the replicator, but with Clarke’s voice to confirm the identity authorization, Echo went on a spree. Side dishes, main courses, desserts, and a host of alcoholic beverages.

When she was finished, Clarke’s small stomach complained, but Echo couldn’t have felt better. Another glance to the ship’s map, and it left the alien to ponder.

“Now, where do I sleep?” she asked, Clarke’s smoky tones dry. She ran the observable dynamic through her mind.

He’da was the outward dominant figure in their relationship, but Clarke obviously had the woman wrapped around her finger. Behind closest doors, it would be the human to command the Commander. Except. They are both practical.

Echo settled. It would be the best room, the First Officer’s.

Sure enough, the doors slid open at her identification, and it was dark. She stumbled a few times, as the human couldn’t see in the absence of this light frequency. Unfortunately, her fall disrupted something in her stomach, the need to be sick coming upon her.

A frantic rush to find the couple’s bathroom, and Echo bend over the toilet, ill. Not a great first test run of this body.

A moment later, she nearly jumped when warm hands swept the hair from her face, the strange Vulcan-but-not woman kneeling behind her.

“Clarke,” sleep rusted her voice, but Lexa wasn’t suspicious, “What is wrong?”

Echo felt her stomach empty once more, but Clarke’s girlfriend didn’t move.

“Um, drank too much,” Clarke’s voice rasped.

Lexa made a sympathetic sound, but admonished gently.

“Clarke, you and Octavia should know better by now,”

Echo didn’t really know what to reply to that. Being sick was a wonderful excuse, and Lexa didn’t press her. Instead, the woman dropped a tender kiss to Clarke’s hair and backed away.

“Would you like a shower?” she asked tiredly, and Echo shook Clarke’s head. Lexa frowned but rubbed at her face, “I will get you sleeping clothes,”

Echo smiled gratefully as Lexa left, and stood, looking toward the sink. She grabbed at some toiletries and set about clearing the foul taste from her mouth. Lexa returned and set a shirt and a pair of underwear on the countertop.

The woman paused, looking at Clarke. Her eyebrows came together.

“Starbright,” she rasped, “That is my toothbrush,”

Echo froze, and looked down. Two brushing devices. There was another, almost identical, and she cursed Clarke’s lover for not have more distinct dental needs.

The alien only smiled, Clarke’s charming innocence grinning around a brush in the mirror. Lexa only huffed a laugh and smiled back affectionately, disappearing.

Climbing into Clarke’s bed in nothing but her new skin and a flimsy top, Echo settled with a smile. The underwear she had foregone. Strange contraption. With the First Officer’s body heat turning the bed warm and smaller, Echo wondered briefly if she could get away with having sex with her.

The woman wrinkled her nose at herself. It would take a day to figure out Lexa and Clarke’s dynamic in order to pull it off correctly. The sculpted woman rolled over and slipped an arm over Clarke’s waist later in the night, but it didn’t help Echo.

The next day was a slow start that Clarke blamed on an effect of alcohol. Lexa only nodded, indulgent. Echo had wanted to laugh, long and hard, when it was quickly becoming apparent that the tall, serious brunette was quite the submissive. Very quiet, and very hesitant, this would be almost too easy.

Echo learned through the morning, meeting Clarke’s friend Raven, and having an easy lunch. After she gave the Captain a brief on the bridge, detailing out that Echo’s ship was to be released from the tractor in an hour.

“Clarke,” the Captain called. Echo waited expectantly, “And our guest, Echo?”

Clarke smiled, “She’s ready to restart her life,”

“Excellent,” Anya had nodded, looking down to her personal computer, “Indra, are you prepared?”

“Aye, Captain,”

“Good. Proceed,”

Suddenly, Echo felt Clarke’s arms be wrenched upwards, and manacles be applied to her wrists. Her stomach dropped in dread. The Captain stood from her position and addressed Clarke’s body. Echo narrowed the woman’s eyes hatefully.

“Release me!” Clarke barked, “What’s the meaning of this?”

Anya merely cast hard eyes over her.

“Commander, do we have Lt. Commander Griffin?”

The tall brunette spoke calmly, “Aye, Captain. She’s in sick bay now,”

A succinct nod.

“Indra, load one chromoelectric pulse. Mr. Blake, aim for the polaric modulator Griffin installed. Fire when ready,”

An impressive light display later, and Echo writhed and yelled from her capture position, horror on Clarke’s face.

“There,” Anya cooled, her posture calculated, “You’ll find your way home in 20 years or so. Security, take this invader to sick bay,” Clarke’s protest were drowned out by Anya’s carrying voice, her hand waving, “Commander?”

“Aye, Captain,” Lexa nodded, following the two guards.

A few hours later, Raven was powering down the DNA exchange box she and Lincoln had devised. Lexa had presided, and Lincoln left to catalogue the events.

After correcting the ownership of bodies, Echo had been livid, and was carried away to be beamed aboard and abandoned on her own ship.

Once it was the three of them, Clarke broke into a relieved smile, “Wow, it’s good to see you again,” the navigator said to her breasts, patting them affectionately. Raven burst into laughter, while’s Lexa’s lips twisted.

The Betazoid serioused, “Clarke Griffin,” she interrogated, “If you really are Clarke Griffin, tell us something no one but Clarke Griffin would know,”

The blonde thought for a moment, then smirked. She cast a glance to where Lexa leaned against her medical bed. Shuffling over, Lexa obliged to bend to Clarke’s mouth, the woman whispering in her ear.

To Raven’s delight, fascination, and absolute horror, Lexa turned a startling pink around her ears, refusing to look at Raven or Clarke.

“It is Clarke,” was all she said.

Clarke, for one, smirked monumentally, winking at Raven. The brunette rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well, I trust Lexa to know. She was the one to figure that creep out,”

“Really?”

Raven nodded.

“How _did_ you know it wasn’t me?” Clarke asked, an interestedly queer grin on her lips.

Lexa suddenly stills, her jaw wiring shut. She gave a small cough and shot an impassive look to Raven. She dipped her head in deference before nodding at Clarke.

“I will see you later,” she said quietly, not meeting the blonde’s confused eyes.

Clarke frowned as Lexa walked away. The woman hadn’t been embarrassed, or shy. So, what? She turned to share a confused glance with Raven, only to see the Betazoid’s pained expression.

“What?” Clarke asked, concerned.

The engineer gave her a pitying look. She breathed and panned without affect, “She came to me when she first suspected something was wrong, and wanted me to see if I could sense your emotions and confirm. I asked her the same question, ya know, ‘How do you know?’ and she said that you were being weird this morning. That you… kissed her oddly,”

Clarke tried not to squirm at the thought of someone else kissing Lexa in her body.

“That’s all it took?” she pressed.

“That’s what I said,” Raven took another steeling breath, “And then she told me. As you left, she looked at you and said that she loved you, and to have a good shift or something,”

Clarke froze while Raven grimaced.

“And then you said you loved her too,”

Clarke felt her heart seize and plummet to her stomach. Her chest iced and she felt like throwing up. She could see it in her mind’s eye. Lexa, arranging her hair meticulously in the mirror, watching Clarke as she fumbled her way through what should have been an easy morning routine. Lexa, frowning over her coffee when Clarke’s eyes flashed greedily at the replicator. Lexa, trying to settle her concern but twitching her jaw after Clarke kisses her too deeply for a morning farewell.

Lexa, her heart prepared to shatter in her chest and risking it anyway.

“Clarke?” the brunette would have fractured out, level and delicate.

Clarke’s body would have turned at the door, eyes interested.

“Have a nice day,”

“Thanks, you too,” Clarke would have cheered, smiling Clarke’s smile.

Maybe Lexa swallowed.

“And Clarke?”

“Hm?”

“I love you,”

Clarke would have shot her a look of devotion and domestic bliss, her lips curling, “Mm, love you too. Bye,” and leaving.

And Lexa, left alone to replay a moment that had never happened, should not have happened, would never happen. Her heart in shredded pieces around her feet. Because the idea of Clarke loving her was so impossible that the only logical explanation was bodily possession.

Clarke didn’t realize she was crying until Raven wrapped her arms around her, small sounds of reassurance in her ear. Her chest felt caved in, and her lungs expanded painfully.

“I can’t-,” she choked, “I can’t do this anymore,”

“Clarke,” Raven urged, “Clarke, come on. Lexa’s fine. You’re fine,”

The blonde swallowed, wiping her cheeks and breathing.

“Clarke, it’s alright. It was just a test for her, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong. Lexa’s a big girl,”

Raven’s eyes were soft and prodding. In her inner eye, she saw the pain, the sacrifice, the guilt wracking her friend’s body. She sighed, pulling away and rubbing Clarke’s arms.

“Come on, let’s get Lincoln to check you out, okay? Make sure everything’s okay,”

“Yeah,” Clarke said softly, breathing deeply, “Yeah, alright,”

As they set off and Lincoln did his thing, Clarke settled. Raven was right. She hadn’t done anything Lexa didn’t fully sign up for. She had told Lexa everything she could. Any more and it wouldn’t be safe. All Lexa had to do was say the word, and it would all stop.

Clarke’s heart jolted at the thought, but she shook the feeling away.

Her personal PADD had beeped, and she read the Captain’s name as overriding her duty shift’s change for the next two days. ‘Mandatory Rest’ is read. The blonde sighed. Briefly, she considered going to Lexa’s quarters to sleep, as she normally would have, but her throat dried at the idea.

Besides, Lexa was on duty for another 3 hours.

She tinkered in Astrometrics until Lincoln called over her comm badge to threaten to have the First Officer revoke her security clearance. His rumbling voice brooked no argument. She checked the time. Lexa had been off for 2 hours, and Clarke decided she was being childish.

On return, she realized that Lexa was in bed, asleep. Obviously, Clarke rolled to herself, Lexa had worked through an entire shift off duty in time to catch her next shift.

Trying to be quiet, the blonde tip toed around her sleeping routine, and then slipped into bed. She didn’t know why, but some part of her heart knew that Lexa was wide awake.

Her heart pounded into that silence, practically feeling Lexa’s in time. By her count, she laid in the tense darkness for hours. Lexa never moved.

When she woke next, Clarke found herself curled inside Lexa’s arms, their legs tangled in the center of the bed.

They didn’t talk about it. But Lexa gave her a small, tentative smile over breakfast, and Clarke couldn’t stop the grateful one she gave in turn. She switched to a teasing lift of her brow.

“So, kiss any aliens lately?”

Lexa nearly spat out her coffee. She cleared her throat and sent a dour look to her reading.

“They were still your lips,” she grumbled.

Clarke smiled.

* * *

 

**Day: 1242**  

“Enter,” Lexa called, her voice even keeled.

Clarke stepped through the doors of the First Officer’s ready room and nearly grimaced. A geospatical Crewman, Crewman Falton, was seated in front of Lexa’s imposing desk, the Varro looking neutrally dominant.

“Commander,” Clarke nodded, looking toward the man and back, “What seems to be the problem?”

Falton squirmed, his expression dark and panicked. Lexa’s posture was passive, but her eyes were clinically dissecting.

“Lt Commander Griffin, as Chief science officer, I felt your consult was appropriate. I have a suggested course of action, but wanted your input,” a lift of her diamond-edged jaw, “Crewman Falton, would you care to explain the situation to your department head?”

Clarke inwardly sighed when the man clammed up, trying to preserve his dignity. She desperately tried to focus, avoiding looking at Lexa in work-mode for fear of distraction.

“I-I,” the man fought, turning red out of embarrassment or exertion or pride, Clarke wasn’t sure. He kept shifting in his seat, and Clarke felt more than saw Lexa’s growing impatience.

“I was just, you know, minding my own business, Commander Griffin, I was. At my post, you know,” he twitched, “And it takes focus, analyzing the rock samples from Ktaris that the away team picked up last week, right? Or was it two weeks ago? I-I can’t remember,” he squirmed once more, rambling, “Weren’t you on the away team, Commander He’da? Actually, weren’t you too, Commander Griffin?”

Clarke tried to set the man at ease, confirming they both had been on the away team.

“Please continue, James,”

His lapse in commentary had derailed him, and Clarke caught Lexa’s eye. Jointly, they thought of how they had kissed inside the massive, floating, orbs of water. Completely hollow and breathable inside, Lexa had flushed pink with pleasure at Clarke’s simple kiss.

Now, Lexa’s face remained impassive. She observed the man with collected professionalism, and Clarke bit her cheek as Lexa’s patience ran thin.

“Is there something wrong with your chair, Crewman?”

“What?”               

Lexa tipped her head, steepling her fingers, “Your chair. If it is not to your liking, we can find a replacement,”

“Uh, no, Commander, I’m good,” the man stilled self-consciously and breathed, “It was Murphy. He just gets under my skin. And I hadn’t slept well, and I was tired, and I got pissed. He said one smart thing too many, so I shoved him,”

Clarke lifted a brow, and Lexa nodded.

“Crewman Falton did not need to be subdued by security personnel, and Lieutenant Murphy is not activating protocol charges. Still, it the personal policy of Captain Triged to observe reprimand for any altercation amongst her crew,”

Clarke nodded, and Falton looked nervous once more.

“Well, James, what do you think?” she said easily, crossing to sit in the free chair next to him. Lexa didn’t react, but the man looked surprised. Clarke continued, “I can’t let this go, but I know it’s out of character. What do you think you’ve earned?”

Crewman Falton looked somehow even more nervous, his eyes flicking from Lexa to Clarke and back.

“Um. I- I’d probably deserve to be demoted?” he swallowed shallowly, “Have holodeck privileges taken out for a few days?”

Clarke tipped her head, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. She nodded to Lexa, who absolutely hadn’t watched the woman’s fluid movement.

“Commander, what do you suggest?”

Lexa was level, “I cannot go without insisting on three days of confinement to quarters. Further preventative action is in your hands, Griffin,”

Clarke nodded. She turned to the Crewman, “James, I’ve read a few reports from the Deputy Officer. And from what Ontari has written, I’d like to suggest a duty move for you,” she gave him a small smile, “How does botany or agriculture sound? We’re always looking for new hands in the hydroponics bay,”

Falton looked shocked, an enormous smile of disbelief flickering over his plain face.

“I- Really? I can move to agriculture?”

Clarke smiled, looking to the First Officer, “Would that be possible, Commander?”

“Certainly,” Lexa crisped, “If it is in Crewman Falton’s best interests, I would approve his transfer,”

“Thank you, Commander Griffin,” he grinned, “Commander He’da,”

Clarke stood, and the Crewman copied her.

“Great, I’ll have Lieutenant Ontari arrange your orientation after your quarters confinement,”

After many shell-shocked thanks, the man exited the First Officer’s ready room, and Clarke gave a small groan at the closed doors. Behind her, Lexa laughed. She turned, throwing a playful glare at the seated woman.

“What?”

Lexa smiled, all traces of the stern, hard-packed First Officer neatly stowed away. Her features turned light, relaxed, and free as she gave Clarke an amused looked.

“I do not understand how you enjoy your work so dearly, and despise mine so much,”

Clarke huffed a laugh, and crossed back to the Varro. Lexa took the hand Clarke offered, and opened her posture so Clarke could settle across her lap. Lexa’s hands instinctively found the woman’s thigh and the slim dip of Clarke’s back. Clarke concurrently slipped an arm over Lexa’s squared shoulders, and smoothed the woman’s jaw with her free hand.

“That’s because you’re much scarier than I am. I’m not cut out for intimidating people into offering up holodeck restrictions,”

Lexa’s laugh pressed into Clarke’s throat, and she pulled back easily.

“Or, it is that you prefer your precious data over people?”

“Did you just call me a nerd?” Clarke gasped.

“No. You are making assumptions. What caliber scientist are you, Chief Science Officer Griffin?”

Clarke laughed, dipping to nose at Lexa’s cheek, Lexa immediately lifting her face, “The kind that keeps the First Officer’s attention by crossing her legs?”

Lexa’s face went sheepish, “Mm. Saw that, did you?”

Clarke smiled fully, “Oh yeah,”

“Mm,”

The blonde echoed the sentiment, bringing her lips to connect fully with Lexa’s. She hummed into the soft press of their mouths together. It had been three years, and Lexa still sent thrills through her.

“Hi,” Clarke whispered when they separated, her forehead pressed to Lexa’s.

“Hello,” the Varro murmured, “What happened last night?”

Clarke made a noise.

“Raven and Octavia. We had an impromptu strategema tournament with a couple guys in security. We wound up throwing down until 0200, and it was easier to just crash there,” she absently stroked Lexa’s cheek with her thumb, frowning, “There was this one guy, Atom, who was a bit of an asshole about it,”

Lexa gave a placid sound of continuance, and Clarke rolled her eyes.

“No, it’s not even worth talking about. Bottom line, Raven kicked ass, Octavia tried to sleep with her, and I was a little tipsy,”

Lexa chuckled, “I sincerely hope you do mean ‘a little’,”

Clarke scoffed, “Shut up. That happened once,”

“You tried to introduce me to the art of the lap dance, forgot how to take your dress off, and tried to replicate a pair of scissors. When I would not let you, you cried and threatened to make a holoprogram of me,”

Clarke was chuckling along with Lexa, and carded her hand over the Varro’s hair.

“I still might, you know,”

“I am sure even my hologram would find that funny, Clarke,”

The blonde rolled her eyes before brightening.

“Speaking of, so I told you I was going to work on polishing the programming in our holonovel, right?”

Lexa nodded.

“Well, I think it’s done,”

The brunette was pleasantly surprised. Clarke and she had been working for weeks on programming the story, their last one having been pre-programmed and a bit lackluster.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh,” Clarke grinned. Lexa shot her a congratulatory look.

“Then you will be pleased to know, I traded shifts with Anya on the bridge, and holodecks with Indra. We have the holosuite for the entirety of the day duty shift,”

“You got us the suite?” Clarke sparkled.

Lexa smiled proudly, “Of course. For the first chapter, I wanted to have the best,”

“And you’re taking off for tomorrow?”

Lexa tone touched defensive, “Only the day shift. I will report for the swing shift as usual,”

The seated blonde breathed but nodded, electing to not ruin the moment. Lexa rarely took shifts off, and almost never scheduled whole days free. It was nice, as her days all looked predictably the same. Lexa worked the day shift’s 8 hours alongside Anya, and the first 4 of the swing shift, giving the back half’s 4 back to Anya. She was free for the night shift.

Still, Clarke craved for a personal touch to them, a break in the monotony. A point she’s brought up to Lexa before. 3 months before. Lexa had a fresh reason explaining the need for her presence with every week’s duty publication.

“Right, okay,” Clarke eased, “Shall we?”

Lexa smiled, relieved, and nodded.

The walk to the holosuite was short and sweet, professional passes with odd crewmembers. Clarke knew most of them, considered a lot of them friends. Lexa knew of all of them, and the entire ship knew them both.

Reaching the suite, Clarke eagerly approached the panel.

“Computer, initiate holodeck program Griffin-He’da 12-Lambda,”

A confirming chirp, and the doors to the suite opened smoothly to reveal a lush, green forest. Clarke smiled when Lexa gave a silly, formal bow, extending her arm to allow Clarke to lead the way.

Stepping in, Clarke looked down to see herself dressed in rugged, sleekly dirty Earth clothes, the weight of an old-fashioned gun on her hip. Real bullets and everything.

She saw moved, and the extended length of her hair surprised her. She lifted her eyebrow.

“If you wanted me to stop cutting my hair, you could have said so,” Clarke turned, and immediately felt a shock of arousal in her stomach. Lexa nearly glared at her.

“Isn’t this a bit… excessive?”

Outfitted in a black regalia of leather, Lexa wore a crimson sash over a dramatic coat, swords crossed on her back. Paint was dripping down her cheekbones, and her eyes were vivid against the forest background.

Everything about her screamed ‘dangerous’. Lexa lifted an eyebrow at Clarke’s flat, hungry, appraisal.

“Apparently not,” she mused.

Clarke found herself and laughed, crossing to kiss Lexa shortly.

“You look great. This is going to be fun,”

Lexa’s nose wrinkled and she nodded.

“Computer,” she called, “Begin holonovel,”

After speaking, an enormous man stepped out from the trees, his eyes glazing over Clarke. He addressed Lexa.

“Heda,” he grumbled diffidently, “Scouts have returned from the East. They say that it was not a star that had fallen but some kind of… tek,” he frowned, “And there are people. People from the sky. They invate Trikru,”

Lexa straightened at once, “Show me,” she commanded haughtily. The man nodded and walked off. Lexa gave Clarke a small, shyly apprehensive look, and the blonde sent her an encouraging nod accompanied by a wink. The Varro seemed relieved to have found the right pitch, and left.

Clarke grinned in anticipation, and started off to find her own beginnings.

It was just when Clarke been brought to Lexa in her tent, seated dangerously on a throne made of wood and bone, that the disembodied chirp of a communicator sounded.

“Lieutenant Jordan to Commander He’da,”

Lexa cut off mid sentence to tap at her badge.

“He’da here, go ahead,”

“We’re having an issue regarding to crewmembers that could use your consultation, ma’am,”

Clarke felt her good mood turn black as Lexa took a small pause, and then Clarke got angry as Lexa resolved herself. She cast an apologetic look toward Clarke while her voice was contrastingly blank.

“I see. I will be in my ready room within the hour. Bring both parties involved,”

“Aye, Ma’am. Jordan, out,”

The silence was unnatural, as the holoprogram had automatically paused itself. Clarke tried to breathe and relax, but it was almost to no use. Lexa simply waited.

Another couple moments passed where neither spoke.

“Clarke,” Lexa wanted to look sheepish, but she forced herself to try and hide it out of pride, “You can be mad. I told you I was not going to work, and I broke my word. You are allowed to be upset with me,”

The blonde scoffed.

“That’s not the problem!” Clarke burst in a rush of frustration, “You’re always working, Lexa! Not even Anya works the hours you do! I don’t understand why you’re doing this!”

Lexa frowned slightly, “I must work, Clarke. The ship is my responsibility,”

“But it’s not though!” the navigator fumed, “There’s an entire senior staff that you’re supposed to be delegating to, and you don’t. And now it’s effecting you!”

Lexa stiffened, “It is not. I have found a balance. I take time off,”

Clarke gave a soft, derisive laugh.

“I know. I’m saying that you did take off! You did this one time, and you’re still working through it!

Lexa went on the defensive, “I cannot help that I am dedicated to my duties. I thought you respected that! As for it’s effect on my life, there is none. I am at my peak performance in the way I schedule myself!”

“But what if you aren’t?” Clarke threw a hand, “You wouldn’t even know how you could perform if you just gave yourself a rest! What if this isn’t your most efficient?”

Lexa halted, and Clarke calmed to take the moment.

“Lexa, I’m not trying to criticize you. Of course I respect your sense of duty. I really admire that part of you. And part of me wants to be selfish and take more of your time, sure. But you don’t give yourself a break. Even Anya takes days off, doesn’t she?”

The Varro gave a slow nod, and Clarke breathed, stepping to square Lexa in the eye.

“I don’t want you to change in any way, so don’t take this so hard, Lexa,” she appealed, her features going warm and concerned as she spoke, “I just want you to be a little happier, and I know you could be if you relaxed a little more, alright?”

Lexa drew in a deep, considering breath, her eyes drawing up and over Clarke’s head. Clarke would never try to hurt her, she knew. Clarke wouldn’t lie or manipulate, so if she was so adamant about this, she must truly feel she could see something Lexa was blind to. The brunette exhaled sharply and met Clarke’s worried blue eyes.

“Yes,” she finally carved, “I will speak with Anya. It would be a good idea, too to even put the promotable-potential officers in the gaps. Good experience,” Lexa was simply talking to herself, and Clarke pressed flush against the brunette in a forgiving embrace, Lexa wrapping her arms around her.

“I would like also, to be able to spar more with Anya in our free time. And Indra. As well as Gustus and the rest of my friends. I do miss seeing them outside of duty,”

Clarke nodded, while Lexa pulled away to look down to Clarke’s oceanic eyes.

“And you, Starbright,” the brunette’s voice curled, “I would be able to spend more time with you,”

Clarke smiled softly.

“Does that mean we could properly start and finish this holonovel?”

Lexa looked guilty, “Uhm. Well, I did say I would assist…”

A lift of a blonde eyebrow and Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Right. Last time, and then I have permission to lose my shit, okay?”

“Yes, Clarke,” Lexa humored, smiling.

* * *

**Day: 1307**

 Clarke opened her eyes and immediately wanted to groan. For whatever reason, she had beaten Lexa and the alarm Lexa programs for Clarke, awake. Still, there were worse positions to wake up in.

Naked, she was lying mostly on top of Lexa’s front, their skin that pleasant smooth and warm slide because Clarke had convinced Lexa they didn’t need clothes after their shower. The Varro had laughed and allowed it.

Now, Clarke felt Lexa stir slightly quickly, she shut her eyes and relaxed. Not out of any strange sense of cruelty, but because she truly didn’t know what Lexa did in these situations.

The blonde woman wanted to roll her eyes as she waited. She heard Lexa lift her head, lay back down, and then rub at her eyes with her one free hand.

Of course Lexa would wait. Of course she would patiently lie still so Clarke could sleep in. Clarke felt Lexa shift very, very slowly, and then settle once more.

The navigator scrunched her nose.

“Are you reading?” she croaked against Lexa’s breasts.

A guilty pause.

“No,”

Clarke broke into a full smile and laughter as she looked up at Lexa, the Varro holding a PADD like it was a contraband item. At their sounds, the computer automatically lifted the dimmer lights in a gentle morning glow. Clarke scoffed again, her blue eyes going smoky and playful.

“You’re supposed to be convincing me to have great, relaxing, morning sex with you. Not reading,”

Lexa lifted a brow, “I am?”

“Mhm,”

“Oh,” she paused again, looking thoughtful, “I suppose I could somehow trick you into that,”

Clarke found another laugh before crawling up to straddle Lexa’s waist, the Varro’s morning erection brushing her firm ass unassumingly. She bent to lay a simple kiss to Lexa, and the brunette accepted it for what it was.

“Morning,” Lexa crooned, “What time would you like to start your day?”

Clarke breathed deeply, stretching her spine languidly. Lexa didn’t let the opportunity to caress her breasts go to waste while Clarke spoke easily, not minding the attention in the least.

“Maybe 0900?”

Lexa hummed, reacquainting with Clarke’s well-mapped curves, her fresh holly green eyes admiring Clarke’s flat stomach, her heavy teardrop breasts, the dip into each curve of her hips, and the beautiful slick dew that was slowly coating her own stomach as Clarke rocked unconsciously against her.

“So late?”

Clarke tipped her head, Lexa’s well-built thighs under her hands.

“I thought I’d give the geospatial department some panic-room before inspection. You’re on your regular 0700?”

Lexa smiled.

“Yes. And you are too soft on them,”

“Soft?” the blonde curled, gently pumping Lexa’s shaft behind her. Lexa laughed and breathed out a soft scoff of a moan.

“Turn, Clarke,”

Clarke did. It was an awkward movement made smooth by Lexa sitting up and guiding her. Immediately, Lexa dusted kisses up Clarke’s shoulder, and clever fingers moved Clarke’s golden hair from one side of her neck to the other.

With Lexa’s breasts against Clarke’s back, the blonde reached and slipped Lexa’s hard cock inside her. She shivered in delight, not moving when Lexa finally bottomed out within her. Lexa simply breathed through the feeling, her dick warm and snug inside Clarke. Her arms wrapped around Clarke’s middle, and the navigator laid one of her own over them.

“Babe, if we try to get off this way, we’ll have to shower again,” Clarke hummed, petting at Lexa’s balls and her own clit in gentle passes.

Lexa just nodded against her spine and laid in quick kisses.

“A moment? Please?”

“Sure, baby,”

The Varro sighed, and Clarke let herself be lulled into complete relaxation, Lexa’s cock fitting inside her comfortably, the sensation heavy and dangerous and soothing. Long minutes passed, Lexa kissing her when it took her.

Clarke felt Lexa’s head lift from her back and she took the hint. She lifted off Lexa’s prick, her pussy clenching awkwardly in mourning. Lexa tugged at her hips and started to lie backwards, a silent request for Clarke to move and sit on her face. It was one of Lexa’s favorite positions. The blonde shook her head as she turned around.

“No, Lex, come inside me, you have to go soon,”

The Varro made a regretful sound and Clarke openly laughed. Lexa’s ears burned and she rolled her eyes. Her voice was grudging and free.

“It does not take you that long, you know. I am rather efficient,”

Clarke harshed out an amused sound while Lexa smiled at her, watching the blonde as she sank down on Lexa’s cock once more, “Flattering yourself at your own skill is bad manners, you know,”

Lexa cocked an eyebrow and rocked her hips upward, Clarke momentarily thrilled through and off-focus. She glared at Lexa, and the Varro smirked.

“Next time, we will set a timer,”

Clarke slapped at her shoulder as they rocked together easily, her stomach pulling and curling with pleasure after every deep stroke.

“Absolutely not. You’re being immodest. It’s not charming,”

Lexa’s eyes were deep emerald as she held Clarke’s hips and ass, her heels digging into the mattress. Clarke’s breath started to come more heavily, and she tipped her head in thought, continuing.

“Unless we were going to compare times,” she gasped at a particular thrust and melted into a smirk, “That’s just being efficient,”

Lexa grunted a laugh and focused, Clarke reaching to her clit and starting up a matching rhythm. Lexa’s hungry eyes watched her work. Just when Clarke was about to tip over the edge, Lexa’s cock unyieldingly hard, she stole Clarke’s fingers away, sucking the digits into her mouth.

Only moments later, Clarke’s pussy vice-tightened and her spine snapped as she came in silent stills of her breath. Lexa ground into the woman, but growled at her lack of friction. As soon as Clarke’s mind cleared and her body relaxed, she set about lifting up and down Lexa’s cock as best she could, leaning just the way Lexa liked.

Another few movements, and Clarke dropped down heavily until she watched Lexa’s face fall apart, her insides warming just so slightly from the Varro’s orgasm.

Lexa panted twice and relaxed with a sigh, tugging Clarke’s hand where they were clasped. The navigator laughed and fell down on her side of the bed, spent. Lexa hummed, rolling to her stomach and gathering the pillow under her head.

Clarke watched her with affection before leaning to suction two kisses to the woman’s sensitive ridges. Lexa only lifted her head, and Clarke kissed her lips slowly.

“You’ve still got 45 minutes for getting ready and breakfast,” Clarke yawned. Lexa huffed, closing her eyes once more. Clarke laughed and Lexa listened as the blonde shuffled around the bed for a moment, her weight leaving.

“Aw, Lex, I have to shower now,” Clarke suddenly groused. Lexa reopened her eyes and saw Clarke standing, naked and put-out. She was holding her hair and looking down.

Her ears heating gently, Lexa swallowed around her own throat as pearls of their combined cum ran down Clarke’s thighs. She lifted a brow.

“That is not my fault,”

Clarke sent her an incredulous glare, and Lexa shrunk into the sheets.

“At least, it is not my fault alone,”

The blonde sent her an unamused look of complete apathy, turning to the bathroom. Alone, Lexa allowed herself a broad smile. Clarke had looked slightly ridiculous, but it was not wise to laugh openly at her.

30 minutes later, Clarke was showered and drinking coffee next to Lexa, the Varro’s pressed uniform pristine and flattering. The woman watched in quiet awe as Lexa’s precision focus went uninterrupted.

“Clarke, please do not twitch like that,”

“I can’t help it! You’re ticking me,”

Lexa breathed for patience, but nodded.

“Fine. I am sorry. I will try not to. But please remain still,”

Clarke only drank her coffee to hide her smile. Coffee that Lexa had replicated for her, along with a small present. The First Officer, already creasing her uniform blouse, was currently bent over and painting Clarke’s toenails a pretty teal blue. Technically out of regulation, but Lexa had declared it a perfect match to Clarke’s science department duty dress.

“So, Raven and Octavia have been bothering me for a while about something,” she started casually. Lexa hummed to let her know she was listening.

“And it’s not a huge deal, but they want to hang out with me,” she bit her lip, “and you,”

Lexa looked up, her expression unenthusiastic.

“Why?”

Clarke breathed. It wasn’t a no, which meant there was hope.

“Because. They’re my friends, and they want to see me with you. My best friend,” she gave Lexa a warm sort of smile, and Lexa breathed.

“Is there a possibility you will lose interest in this?”

The blonde bit at her coffee cup’s lip and did her best to look cute, “Not really,”

Lexa turned annoyed at the woman’s clearly manipulative expression. She had a thought, and added an arch to her brow.

“Fine. But I am bringing Anya,”

Clarke nearly made a face, and Lexa smiled smugly. Clarke shot the woman a droll look.

“We’ll talk about it later,”

Lexa smiled fully and nodded, releasing Clarke’s foot. A kiss and the sweep of a door, and Lexa was left to ponder. Anya was her friend and confidante, but even the Captain had her limits.

* * *

**Day: 1419**

“Guess who came to talk to me today?”

Clarke sat down heavily on the couch and arranged herself promptly. Lexa lifted her reading from her lap to make room. She closed the book and leaned back on the sofa, accommodating.

“Who?”

“Monty,” Clarke glimmered, “He wanted me to use my powers of persuasion over you,”

Lexa lifted an eyebrow, “Indeed?”

Clarke nodded.

“He and Gustus are getting married, and he wanted to know if you and Anya could be persuaded into letting them turn one of the cargo bays into a wedding hall of sorts,”

Lexa huffed an entertained sound.

“And why did he not ask me himself? We are friends, are we not?”

Clarke smiled, picking up Lexa’s hand to play with absently.

“Sure, of course you are. But that’s about friend stuff, and this is about professional stuff,” Lexa’s lips twitched, and Clarke wrinkled her nose, “And babe, you’re a little terrifying to most people,”

Lexa broke into a full smile before fixing a faux-serious look to Clarke.

“I am the First Officer of this starship, Lt. Commander Griffin, if I do not terrify my crew a small amount, then what is the point?”

Clarke broke into rusking laughter, “The best part of that, is that the few people who aren’t intimidated by you are the ones who have actually spoken to you. They walk away from your ready room forgiven, charmed, and half way to infatuation,”

Lexa scoffed, but smiled.

“Gustus also came to me today, coincidentally,”

“Yeah?” Clarke interested. Lexa tipped her head.

“He inquired about scheduling their guest list to include those invited to be off duty for their wedding,” she squinted, “As well as for the day after, and a small group of people to be off the night before,”

Clarke smirked, seeing Lexa had no idea what a Bachelor party might be.

“Are you going to let him have it?”

“Of course,”

“Good,” Clarke smiled. A sudden thought occurred to her, “Hey, who are you going with, by the way?”

Lexa cast the blonde a confused, half-amused look.

“You, of course, Clarke,”

Clarke tried not to tense, but whatever her reaction had been set Lexa immediately on edge. The brunette had been fiddling with the hem of Clarke’s pants, Clarke’s legs pinning her to the couch. It was Clarke’s favorite time of the day. The sweet, weightless period of time between dinner and bed that rushed neither of them.

Clarke tried to relax the woman, knowing she was about to put the previously light, simply conversation on thin ice.

“We can’t go together, Lex,”

“Why not?” Lexa frowned, “Monty already came to you about me. Clearly, it is widely known that we,” she broke off, “that we are… Close,”

The Varro flexed her jaw, and Clarke knew it to be a reflex to conceal the wince at herself. The blonde retracted her legs and sat straighter on the couch, folding her legs under her.

“Lexa,” she started, “Monty came to me because everyone knows we’re friends,”

Lexa swallowed, her heart twisting in that peculiarly painful way it did when she remembered that Clarke was not tied to her. Not in anyway.

Clarke was not hers. Clarke did not love her. Clarke was free to end this at any time. And it was not in the Varro’s nature to yield to her desires. Still, Lexa was proud.

“And do friends not attend events together?”

Clarke had watched the tender vulnerability roll across Lexa’s features, and she felt her skin itch and scream to touch the woman’s now closed expression. The air between them was stifling.

“It’s not that. It’s that at a wedding, you know,” she tipped her head, “It might give the wrong impression. We’re together most of the time already, and showing up with each other as dates… It would make us look together. Really, together,”

Lexa breathed, and was reckless.

“And are we not together?”

Clarke leveled clear, bracingly blue eyes on Lexa’s suddenly blazing, challenging greens. She breathed, razors shearing her heart as she repeated the mantra to herself; keep Lexa safe. It’s better this way.

“No,” she hoarsed, “No, Lexa. We’re not,”

It would have been kinder to strike the woman.

Lexa didn’t react. She sat stock still and silent. It had been 3 years and 9 months, and Clarke had counted. And she counted now, too. A full 30 seconds. A half of a minute where Lexa willed, hoped, wanted to beg, for Clarke to take it back. To change her mind.

To sparkle and shine her easy, free feeling smile at Lexa and hum in her smoking, low voice that she was joking. That Lexa meant something to her. That she cared for her. That all the sex, the laughter, the frustrating arguments about nothing, the quiet moments, the routine. That it meant something more than close friends. That she needed Lexa too, even if she didn’t love her.

But Clarke didn’t.

And so, Lexa sat, stunned and stoic. Her mind cast about for words. But before words, she had to decide what she felt. What to do now.

Slowly, she stood from the sofa. Her movements were careful, concise, and controlled. Her breathing seemed too deep. It hurt her chest. She wanted to throw something. To cry. To shut her eyes and wake up. She wanted to hold Clarke’s hand and talk.

She would play with Clarke’s clever fingers and talk about how her _olan’vora_ didn’t chime anymore and she didn’t know what that meant. She’d tickle at the woman’s palm and smile when Clarke’s thumb twitched as she spoke about how Clarke made her feel like settled warmth and heavy sunlight. And Clarke would watch her in that particular way she did, her starbright eyes relaxed and happy-sweet.

But Lexa hasn’t been able to have everything she wanted for three and a half years.

Lexa blinked, and found she was staring down at her kitchen’s table, one hand’s fingers bracing her balance. She swallowed and let her pinky skim the cloth napkin of her dining set. Clarke’s insistence. Her eyes roved over the table, her lips nearly flickering.

There were two sets. Two placemats. Two.

She cleared the sand from her throat.

“You are right,” Lexa finally allowed herself to whisper, “I am sorry. I should not be so confused. You have always been very clear with me,” she squinted at the spoon, “I am afraid I have forgotten to consult Anya on a report I am drafting. You will have to excuse me,”

Lexa was fully aware Clarke knew she was lying, and she knew also that Clarke realized Lexa didn’t care that she knew. Still, Lexa left. Her head ached, and something shrunk inside of her, compacting until it weighed in her stomach. She didn’t say goodbye.

In her wake, Clarke remained on the couch, two knuckles clamped in her teeth and bruising as tears tracked down her cheeks.

She had watched Lexa suffer. Watched something break inside the woman she loved. But as she watched Lexa stand in that clean, surgical way of her movements, Clarke thought of how vulnerable she looked.

And she remembered. Because Lexa _was_ vulnerable. Lexa could be hurt. Emotionally, physically, Lexa could bleed. Could die. And Clarke would not be the reason. She refused to kill the one she loved.

* * *

**Day: 1421**

Al’Lexa He’da was patient. She was disciplined. She was ethical, moral, and guided by Starfleet standard-issue regulation. Commander Al’Lexa He’da was a pantheon of strength.

But right now, Lexa was weak.

In love, and weak.

Because Clarke was in a very flattering light blue dress, her blonde hair pinned in a chignon and a tasteful amount of make up. And on the arm of Petty Officer Alie Lightenbach from engineering.

Currently, all the guests were gathered in Cargo Bay 2, the large holding area decorated in tasteful white, chairs arranged in neat rows facing an altar and arch that Gustus had spent weeks perfecting. The gathered congregated and mingled, waiting for the beginning of the ceremony.

Lexa was serving Gustus as a what was called a ‘Groomsman’, an assembly of people who, from what Lexa could infer, would be most likely to join a fight to protect the Groom should someone issue a challenge to the marriage.

Still, it meant she was designated the counterpart date of Monty’s Groomsman, Lieutenant Niylah Winters, a field nurse with whom Lexa had previously had little contact with. She was a very pretty woman, with light caramel eyes and an easy, smooth layer to her voice. Lexa was enjoying her company so far, and Gustus had been grateful to her for it.

“I would like everything to go well,” the large man had rumbled to her the night before. Another human wedding tradition. This one, Lexa was not at all opposed to, but the current shrill in her head was unpleasant.

Discussing the ‘Bachelor Party’ with Niylah proved incredibly amusing, as well as helpful. The nurse had brightened and retrieved a medical attachment on her tricorder.

“I can help with that. Hangover cure. I’ve cleared nearly the entire wedding party now,” she laughed and then paused her movements with a sheepish, “Pardon me, Commander, but you’re Varro, correct?”

Lexa nodded, “I am. Though for this evening, please call me Al’Lexa, or Lexa. Whichever is easiest for you,”

Niylah smiled, “Thanks. And since you’re Varro, I’m sure this would be even more effective if applied to your spine. Would you mind…?” she held the device up, and Lexa readily turned, moving her hair eagerly. A small laugh sounded behind her, and Niylah looked apologetic.

“Al’Lexa, sorry again, but you’re sort of… tall,”

Lexa felt herself smile uncharacteristically. She flexed her jaw and quickly found a seat, Niylah confirming it was much easier for her. And promptly, the Varro nearly fell out of the chair, the nurse’s tricorder applied and gently rubbed up and down her neck’s visible ridges.

Draylaxian whiskey was nothing to be trifled with.

For her part, Clarke was currently engaged in conversation with Alie, Ensign Ontari Black, Raven, and her date, Crewman Finn Collins. It had been easy until she had looked up and watched with a fire in her stomach as Lexa let a very pretty nurse caress her spine. Her face had neared orgasmic, and next to her, Raven sent her a curious look as her insides flared with black-orange jealousy.

Afterwards, Lexa had stood, dashing and attractive in her formal dress uniform, and guided the pair of them to their places at the altar, speaking lowly together.

“Right, Clarke?” Alie smiled, her expression oblivious.

Clarke refocused and nodded, vaguely aware they were talking about the band.

“I know. I had no idea Titus could play the cello,”

A rain of laughter, and Clarke distracted herself again.

With her moment of social obligation fulfilled, Clarke was free to let her mind wander. And her mind apparently told her eyes to watch Lexa. Even as the music started up and they found their seats, she watched Lexa. With grace, the Varro deposited the blonde she was with to her standing station, and then Lexa took up her own position.

Monty and Gustus were handsome and happy each, but Clarke couldn’t take her eyes off the Varro her heart beat for. And Lexa caught her. Anya, presiding as Captain with authority to wed her crewmembers, took her post, but Lexa noticed Clarke’s unwavering electric eyes.

There were lightyears of conversation between them. 50 people and more surrounded them, two of whom were pledging their lives to the other, and Clarke didn’t break the ambient-dissolving connection of Lexa’s eyes on hers.

“We’re gathered here today, not as Starfleet officers,” Anya began, her Ruji voice steely but calm and deeply joyful, “but as friends and family, to celebrate the marriage of two of the USS Ambassador’s finest. Monty has asked me to forego the rigors of a Rujian wedding chase in favor of a more traditional ceremony,”

Anya smiled and paused for the rippling laughter. She continued, but it was awash in Clarke’s ears. She looked at Lexa on the altar, and her throat dried out.

“As Captain, the honor of joining these two people has fallen to me. But before I declare them husbands, Monty and Gustus have prepared their own vows. Monty?”

The medic’s eyes were misting, and his best man, Jasper Jordan, handed him a handkerchief.

“Gus,” he started, “I can’t believe it look us a whole year and a half to meet,” he smiled when Gustus smiled, “and then another two to wind up here,”

Monty went on, but all that Lexa could make sense of was that her friend had married after two years of knowing Monty. She and Clarke… Lexa swallowed, Clarke’s face so beautifully tragic.

Gustus took his turn, speaking in low, slow, syllables of love, devotion, trust and honor, and Clarke felt her heart break. She could never have this. Worse, she could never give this. Not to Lexa. Gustus’ words echoed in her chest, and she wanted to scream from the pressure that her heart wanted to say them to Lexa.

But she couldn’t. As soon as Lexa started to suspect her feelings, Clarke knew it would be Lexa’s demise. And so all Clarke could do was sit and indulge herself in fantasy. That Lexa would one day stand just like this, in nearly the same spot. Except she would be a little closer to the center, her features filled with hope and joy and love. And she would be waiting for Clarke.

As it was, all they were doing was the waiting part. Waiting.

“Lieutenant Monty Greene, Ensign Gustus Foster,” Anya declared, “With the power vested in me by Starfleet Command and the United Federation of Planets, I hereby declare you wed and one, from this moment until the end of your days. You may kiss,”

A collective whoop went out, and rippled through the crowd. Clarke smiled broadly and clapped along with everyone else breaking out of her reverie. Alie nudged her, and handed her a tissue. Clarke didn’t even realize she had let a tear slip down her face. She chuckled through it and looked to see Lexa hold her arm out for her date, leading her down the makeshift altar and to the tables that awaited them.

“I think they’re going to have food, and then dancing,” Raven leaned over her.

Clarke nodded, forcing herself to focus.

The rest of the evening passed in good form, and Clarke found herself even having a little fun. Earlier, Raven had gone with her to the punch bowl and rolled her eyes.

“You can’t tell her you’re not going with her, then be mad for seeing her with someone else,”

Clarke had stopped watching Lexa after that. Octavia, surprisingly, had accompanied Lincoln to the wedding, and the Romulan had turned a charming scarlet when asked about the arrangement.

Octavia grinned proudly and nodded heartily when he had muttered something about Octavia shouting an invitation at him across the medical bay. Clarke and Raven had collapsed on each other in laughter.

While Clarke relaxed, Lexa found herself continuously closing up. Niylah hadn’t changed, but she watched in understanding as her First Officer sent pining glances to Lt. Commander Clarke Griffin.

“He’da!” Gustus had rumbled drunkenly, patting the woman heartily on the back, “Dance with Monty’s friend! She is beautiful!”

Lexa had only nodded, turning to Niylah and offering a hand. The nurse accepted it with a smile, and was surprised to find the Varro an incredibly capable waltz partner.

Inquiring bought her a distracted explanation of Lexa’s extra Academy credit of ‘Human Society in the Ancient World’. Niylah followed Lexa’s diverted gaze to see Lt. Commander Griffin dancing with Alie Lightenbach, and the nurse sighed in amused resignation.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Lexa startled and focused, Niylah looking keen and pretty as she stepped in time.

“Ah, yes, I suppose,”

Niylah smiled, “I don’t suppose you happen to be in love with her, do you?”

Lexa stared, not knowing she had quit moving. Niylah shrugged.

“I saw you watch her during the ceremony earlier. It wasn’t an expression that friends give each other. I was just wondering,” she smiled, “I’m not going to say anything, and you seem like the type to not say anything either. Did you want to talk about it?”

And maybe it was the Kandora champagne, maybe it was the fact that Alie’s hand was right over the spot on Clarke’s back that Lexa always stoked while Clarke laid over her chest, napping. Maybe it was Niylah’s gentle ease and kindness. But Lexa found herself nodding, her expression awed and open.

Because Al’Lexa He’da was in love, and weak.

And somehow Niylah sensed the self-inflicted pain that Lexa carried. Call it a nurse’s instinct to help the wounded. But Niylah took the Varro’s hand and led her away from the cargo bay.

Clarke had watched, stricken.

Hours later, Clarke opened her quarters’ door to find Lexa fast asleep, fully clothed and free of alcohol, passed out on her bed. She sighed in relief.

Still, there was a thorn in her heart of an indeterminate size. Lexa hadn’t slept with anyone, Lexa had come back to her room, but Lexa wasn’t happy. Not really. And it was Clarke’s fault.

The navigator sat on the bed, watching her lover sleep. It was blissful and quiet in the room, but Clarke knew that Lexa would wake up soon. She hated sleeping in her uniform.

Lexa would wake - From this short nap, from this long 3.5 years, from this mission.

Lexa would wake.

* * *

**Day: 1428**

“Okay, warp core’s good, all systems are showing green, and you’ve got enough emergency procedures catalogued in this baby to survive the Borg,” Raven walked Clarke around the large cargo shuttlecraft, reading and checking off an engineer’s tablet.

“You’ve got food to practically feed a zoo for a month, and what’s up with you and Lexa?”

Clarke looked up from where she was following along on her own checklist, and glanced to the First Officer and back.

“You guys have been this weird, pale, color purple for a week,” Raven frowned, watching Lexa’s postured stance as she spoke to Lincoln easily, “What happened?”

Clarke sighed.

“We’re fighting. I think,” she cut wearily, running her eyes over the airframe critically.

Raven’s mouth opened.

“Oh my god, what is that even like with her?”

“Raven,”

“Right, sorry,” the Betazoid wrinkled her nose, “Is that why you’re going on an away mission without her? That’s never happened,”

“I know,” Clarke murmured, her voice mindful of the final checks and briefs going on around her, “She made up something about Anya and she needing to collaborate on something and took herself off the assignment,” the blonde wanted to sigh again, but instead grimaced.

“We haven’t had sex in days, and we stopped communicating almost altogether. I’m losing sleep over it, and I know she is too,”

“You’re still sharing a bed?”

Clarke pursed her lips and nodded. Lexa had tried sleeping on the couch, but Clarke had eventually quietly asked her at 0300 in the morning to come to bed. Even a few hours were better than none.

“It’s just a weird rut. It’ll work out,”

“Clarke,” Raven paused and fixed an uncharacteristically serious look on her friend, her black eyes boring into Clarke’s surprised blues, “Lexa loves you. And you stringing her out like this,” Raven grimaced, “It’s killing her, Clarke,”

The navigator took that in all the seriousness Raven intended. Her answer was measured, but reflexive.

“I don’t really know what to do here, Raven,”

The Betazoid bit her lip.

“Well. Figure it out,”

Clarke swallowed shallowly and nodded.

“Clarke,” Lexa’s voice broke between them, and the Varro looked professionally calm.

“Hey,” Clarke noted, “Need me for something?”

Lexa nodded, head tipping to the interior of the cargo shuttle.

“A word?”

“Sure,” Clarke looked to Raven, “Give me a second?”

The engineer nodded and walked off to consult another member of the away team. Lexa lead Clarke to the piloting controls and the blonde had the doors program shut behind them.

“I need to observe you go through the final controls proficiently check before you depart,”

Clarke knew she could have protested the request, as she was, in fact, incredibly skilled with this model of airframe and Lexa knew it. Still, Lexa had once signed an urgent roster change approval while going down on Clarke. Her work ethic was remarkable.

So, Clarke performed the check with fluid, easy movements, and Lexa nodded.

“Thank you,”

“Sure,”

They stood together, and Clarke’s heart seized at the hesitation.

It should have been an easy interaction. It should have been like all the others. When Clarke would press a simple hand to Lexa’s stomach and tip a kiss to the Varro’s lips, Lexa following her back down for a second sending kiss. Simple goodbyes. Ones that were settled in the knowledge that there would be just as easy of hello’s to follow them.

But now, Clarke watched Lexa’s jaw flex, and the blonde knew Lexa would tolerate a kiss, but it would offend her sense of sincerity. And so Clarke resolved to take the plunge. She cleared her throat with a small grimace and Lexa focused on her, as Clarke knew she would.

“Lexa,” she started lowly, serious as Lexa had ever seen her, “I know things haven’t been… great between us. So, when I get back,” she breathed and drove on, “I just have to talk to you, okay?”

Lexa’s face remained impassive, but Clarke saw the fear of pain, the relief of communication, and the hope for resolution. Whatever Lexa saw in her own eyes was a mystery, truly, but the taller woman eventually nodded.

“Yes,” she said distinctly, “I also would like to speak with you, Clarke. We cannot continue on this way,” her posture unbent a small amount as she shuffled forward for a moment, “Though, I- Um. You will be careful, yes?”

Clarke exhaled through her nod, a twist to her lips. Lexa mirrored her minutely. She took another hesitant shuffle, Clarke’s body reflexively opening as Lexa nodded toward her.

“Um, may I?”

The blonde broke and smiled fully. She stepped and enveloped Lexa in a hug. It was meant to be quick, but Clarke’s body had spent years being molded to Lexa’s, and the brunette reflexively pressed her nose down and under Clarke’s jaw, inhaling.

Another moment longer, and Clarke slowly extricated herself from Lexa. A final press of their hands and they disconnected. Lexa nodded firmly and walked off the shuttle. Clarke swallowed, a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“All clear in here?”

Raven stepped into the shuttle. Clarke breathed in a steeling, self-motivating way.

“As clear as clear can be right now. So practically mud. What’s the final word?”

“Right,” Raven refocused on the shuttle professionally, “So since you’re scheduled for four days and the atmosphere won’t let scans permeate it, if you’re down there for more than that, we go on yellow alert. After five, and we’re sending a team to come get you,”

Clarke smirked, “Gee, thanks,”

A scoff, “Wasn’t my idea,”

“Whose was it then?”

Raven sent her a significantly dry look, and it immediately occurred to the navigator who would be concerned with personnel safety, contingency plans, and Clarke Griffin.

Right.

“Any thing else?”

Raven shook her head.

“Ready for departure?”

“Hell yes. I’ve got some seriously confrontational crap to script out,”

The Betazoid laughed outright at that and rolled her eyes unhelpfully. As she walked away, Clarke was left to talk with the rest of the away team. As well as think about Lexa. She thought about Lexa a lot that week.

Four days went by for Clarke.

A lifetime went by for Lexa.

It happened during a very routine part of her duties – Commanding the bridge. Clarke had left for the surface exploration of a class M planet yesterday morning, and it left Lexa to her work.

Still, for the past few hours, a shrilling, piercing sort of pain had started up in the center of her chest, arcing hotly up and down her spine, into her skull. Anya in the Captain’s chair next to her looked over with concern in her face when Lexa gave a particularly painful cringe.

“Commander, are you feeling alright?”

Octavia and the rest of the bridge crew looked up at the Captain’s call. Lexa felt her chest try to separate at the center, but nodded, sweat accumulating at her temples. She pried her jaws apart long enough to strain out speech.

“Yes. It is a… headache,”

“Do you need to visit sickbay, Lexa? You look very unwell,”

“I. I am fine,”

Anya frowned, and Raven appeared on the bridge, stepping from the turbolift. She nearly dropped her engineering tablet at the wall of sick, hot orange pain that waved over her senses.

“Commander,” she stared, suppressing the urge to let her abilities spider web across the bridge. Lexa broke into a pant, her hand going to rub at her chest.

Anya stood, a hand going to Lexa’s bicep, “Lexa, we’re going to sickbay,”

The Varro felt her chest crack and squeeze, and her skull threatened to melt. Whatever was happening was excruciating, but she still had room enough for pride. She shrugged Anya’s hand off, and forced herself to stand.

“Very well,” she grit. She took a few broken, harsh steps toward the turbolift. Her heart beat loudly I protest, and she left like it was trying to beat outside of her chest. Like it was being torn, ripped, and shredded from every vein and artery inside her.

The crew watched her movements with trepidation, and Lexa passed the security conn where Octavia looked deeply concerned. But before the dark black edging around Lexa’s vision swallowed her, a small click in the back of her mind registered.

Oh.

So that’s how it is.

Her eyes closed, and Clarke’s bright smile crooned in a haunting, far away echo through her ears.

“Lexa,”

And then, as the Varro fought for her right to stay awake, her legs gave out.

“Lexa!” Octavia shouted, catching the woman. Her expression was wild as she looked to Raven and Anya for guidance. The brunette in her arms huffed, her hand seeming to press over her heart with desperation.

“What’s wrong with her?” Anya snapped to Raven, who stilled to concentrate on reading Lexa’s feelings. Suddenly, she gasped, her hand ghosting to her heart as pain inked itself across her features.

“It’s Clarke,” the empath wheezed, black eyes flickering over the bowed Varro, “I don’t really understand it, but it’s got something to do with Clarke,” panic swam through her eyes, “We need to get Lexa to sickbay. Octavia?”

“On it,” the brunette echoed, shifting the taller woman onto her shoulders, “Hang in there, Commander,”

The mentioned woman simply grunted, sweat rolling at her temples and her jaw clamped as if she would scream.

By the time they had transported her to sickbay, Lexa had passed out, and a nurse rushed over, Lincoln on the away team with Clarke.

“What happened?” Niylah asked worriedly, a medical tricorder already hovering and chirping away. Raven flurried out her thoughts, Anya and Octavia watching intently.

“She’s Varro, and I think she might be bonded with Clarke, who’s on the away team. She’s been gone for 24 hours. She must have moved further away,”

Niylah seemed to pale as she listened and read the scan. She glanced to the Betazoid, “You’re right,” she steeled, “Lexa’s reading abnormally elevated beta endorphins and unusual synaptic activity in the cerebral cortex. And her biochemistry has drastically changed from her initial medical exam,”

She gave a worried look to the watching crew, “There aren’t many records of Varro, due to the sequestered nature of their species. What little species documentation we’ve gathered has come from the Commander’s own publication and records. But from what I’ve read, Varro mates synch with each other at a psychochemical, biometric, level. Her brain knows what it needs, and it’s not getting it,”

“What does that mean?” Raven finally snapped. Niylah flinched.

“Right now, not a lot,” she gave a sad look at the tricorder, “But soon, Lexa’s internal systems are going to shut down, starting neurologically,”

“Fuck,” Octavia worried, casting a helpless look to Anya.

“Do we know if Clarke’s in a similar state?” the Ruji snapped. Niylah gave her a lost, pleading sort of glance.

“Planet-side, we don’t know what’s happening. The planet’s atmo is messing with all communications, so biotracerss are offline,”

“Fuck!” Octavia shouted, Raven’s face falling in devastation.

Anya just stared. Her hand drifted to her communicator badge and a double chirp put her online.

“Captain Triged to Deputy Chief Black,” she said, her steel-grate voice a sheared wool soft. Only a moment passed before the Science Department’s second in command answered.

“Get the science department ready. I want you to join with the medical team and report to sickbay. There’s an emergency project to research,”

Ontari’s reply was succinct, “Right away Captain,”

Anya’s throat bobbed.

“Triged, out,”

She breathed, watching Lexa’s unconscious features.

“Niylah, as soon as a report, any report, is available, I want to hear about it,”

“Aye, Captain,”

Anya nodded, and turned on her heel.

In her absence, Raven quickly pressed a hand to her head. She looked to Octavia.

“I’m going to see if I can get through the atmosphere with some kind of signal,”

Octavia grit her teeth.

“Good idea,” she breathed, “I’ll…. Find something constructive,”

Raven laid a hand over her friend’s shoulder, Octavia reaching to cover her own over it. They sat for a moment, watching their friend fall away.  

* * *

**Day: 1432**

When the promised four days were up, Clarke and a wearied away team stepped off the cargo shuttle, hurrying away to file their reports. She was looking for Lexa to start organizing her senior debrief, but found Raven instead.

“Hey,” Clarke cheered, happy to be home, “Am I briefing you instead of Lexa?”

Raven seemed to suffer a shock.

“Clarke, can you come with me for a second?”

The blonde slowly nodded, confused. Raven led her to the workshop off of the cargo bay. She sat on one of the low workbenches, and gestured next to her.

“Clarke,” Raven’s hands started to knot in on themselves, and the navigator was officially concerned, “You may want to sit down for this,”

Clarke frowned, but took a seat, reaching for her friend.

“Raven, it’s alright,” she soothed, “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it,” her eyes searched for understanding, “What is it?”

The brunette immediately blanched. Not even in Clarke’s realm of possibility, then, it was that Lexa didn’t live. How was it she was supposed to say this? How could she shatter Clarke’s world?

“Clarke, I-“ the woman broke off, looking helpless, her eyes filled with fear.

A few odd beats of distressed silence, and Clarke finally saw something in her friend’s eyes. She slowly tightened her grip on Raven’s wrist, a terrible dread filling in from the pit of her stomach.

“What is it Raven? What’s happened?” she swallowed, “Where- Where’s Lexa?”

At this, Raven flinched, and Clarke knew. Her mind immediately burned, her bones turning to dust, and she was hit by a sudden rush of self-preserving apathy.

“Raven,” she hushed, her knuckles white around Raven’s wrist, “Tell me,”

The woman gave a great struggling movement of her head, knowing the effect of this moment. She didn’t want it. Not for Clarke.

“Lexa’s dead,”

Clarke didn’t move.

The room smelled sharp and harsh.

Raven’s words rung in her head.

It wasn’t real.. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be real. Clarke’s lungs pulled in desperation. Lexa was too heavy, too warm, too _alive_ in Clarke’s chest to be dead. Lexa, with her sparkling green eyes and honey tones of secret sweetness. Lexa, with carved fruit, and twisted rose red lips.

And yet, every time she’s ever heard those words, it’s felt like this. Somehow anti-climatic. Somehow too simplistically short to be true.

“What?” Clarke croaked out instead. She felt like her ears were filled with water, and her eyes were suddenly glassy, “What did you just say?”

Raven’s mouth opened hesitantly, her expression devastated, but Clarke cut her off.

“What do you mean Lexa’s-“ her head reeled and she wanted Raven to start laughing, to take away the apologetic, world-shattering look in her eyes, “No. No, Raven, _no_!”

The Betazoid’s eyes flushed with tears, and Clarke’s heart fell through. Raven wouldn’t lie to her, wouldn’t joke this way. Not with what she knew of Clarke’s history. Her fear of exactly this thing.

And Clarke had been so careful. She felt the fight leak out of her.

“How?”

“It-“ the engineer swallowed, and her words suddenly poured, “It was because she was Varro. She apparently linked her biochemistry to yours, and long periods of great separation started to deprive her of your synchronization. She was fine for the first day, and then everything happened all at once,”

Clarke sat, still and listening, and her mouth mechanically moved.

“There was a wormhole,” her mouth felt like it was filled with sand, “Transported us to the other side of the planet,”

Raven hitched a breath.

“Yeah,” she softened, “After that, Lexa started to kind of… shut down. Her neurotransmitters stopped firing, and she fell into a coma. After that, it was her internal systems, which we could keep running forever, but. Her brain finally shut off,”

Clarke’s voice was not her own.

“When?”

Raven’s eyes filled, but she didn’t allow herself to cry.

“This morning,” she hoarsed out.

Clarke nodded, looking away.

Raven sat with her for long, long moments of quiet. Clarke didn’t know how to begin processing this. What was she supposed to settle on first? There were so many things she needed, wanted, and all of them were things Lexa could have given her.

“Can I see her?”

Raven just nodded, standing and pulling Clarke by the hand. Foggy, lost seconds passed, and Clarke didn’t realize the corridors had gotten longer, lonelier. They filled her like ice water, and walking made no sense to her legs.

“Through here,” Octavia whispered. Clarke wasn’t even aware the woman had joined them, “We’ll have a… ceremony. Tomorrow,”

A ceremony.

A funeral, Clarke distantly realized.

Distantly. That was how Clarke was processing things until the doors to the morgue opened. And Clarke took one step. And another. Until Lexa was lying on a low table in front of her, eyes closed and unnaturally still.

A silk sheet covered her from chest to feet, and Clarke was grateful there were no signs of an autopsy. She reached a curious hand out, and the stopped. Lexa’s skin wouldn’t be that too-warm heat she knew. She wouldn’t wake up in the languid, deep breathes that Clarke’s chest never failed to lighten with.

And suddenly, Clarke was on her knees, her head bowing to rest by Lexa’s pale hand. Sobs tore from her throat, and her heart imploded.

“Lexa,” she screamed quietly, “No, no, no, no!” tears poisoned her cheeks, and her throat was a desert, but she had spent years not telling Lexa what she wanted. Why did it take this to change it all?

“Lexa,” Clarke whimpered, “I tried, Lexa, I’m so sorry. I tried so hard to keep you safe and-“ her voice cut off wetly. In her mind, Lexa was looking at her in calm understanding, that unspoken shout of love and affection in the curve of her lips, the glitter of her eyes.

“But you promised, Lexa,” she cried, “I did everything I could, and you promised you would always be here!” she tried to breathe, but the air here was too dense, “You can’t do this to me!” she clenched the sheet in one fist and the table’s edge in another.

“Please,” Clarke whispered, “Don’t leave me all alone,”

She was still for long moments, her breath breaking in her tears, “I can’t- Not you. Anyone but you,” she sobbed, “I need to tell you,”

A soft thump of her head to the table.

“I was going to tell you I loved you,” so quiet it almost wasn’t real, “I love you,”

Raven gave a miserable look in Octavia’s general direction, and the human nodded tensely. The pair knew that Lexa, with whatever Clarke wanted to call their relationship, had made their friend happier than she had ever been. Here, in the cold black of space, Clarke had felt warmth and love.

She had fought to keep it.

And she had lost.

Later, after getting Clarke some water and back into her quarters for a sonic shower, the two conferred in solemn tones in Clarke’s front room.

“I had to get away,” Raven strained, looking guilty, “Her grief feels-“ she grimaced, and Octavia nodded easily.

“It’s alright,” she comforts, “Clarke understands. She wouldn’t want anyone else to have to feel what she feels,”

Raven swallowed.

“You know, I used to find myself in the same room as the two of them. Almost like I forgot something, and then I’d be in the mess while they had lunch,” she laughed humorlessly, “I didn’t even realize I did it,” she trapped a lip in her teeth.

“They were just so… happy. I gravitated towards them. Clarke was so bright and full of joy around Lexa. And you wouldn’t know it, but the Commander is practically made of goo when she’s with Clarke. Was, with Clarke,”

Octavia looked ill at Raven’s blocky correction, and the Betazoid rested her head in her hands, and her voice broke.

“Lexa was in pain when she died. Regret and sorrow, and practically hemorrhaging love. I don’t know how to tell Clarke that,”

Octavia laid a hand on Raven’s shoulder and tried to fill herself with love for her friend. Raven lifted her head and shot her a grateful look. The slender woman fell against the security officer and felt no shame at the hot tears that escaped her.

“You don’t have to,”

They didn’t leave Clarke that night. The ceremony was the next morning, and Clarke didn’t sleep. Raven and Octavia took turns sitting with her, but the blonde didn’t utter a sound.

* * *

**Day: 1433**

As far as funerals went, it was fairly standard for Starfleet.

Lexa’s body was put into a photo torpedo casing, the flag for the United Federation of Planets draped over it. A small group of people were gathered at the torpedo launch deck, and Anya had prepared a few words. Very few.

There was a distinct lack of frill, and Octavia had grimaced at the poor show. When Raven quietly asked Clarke about it, the blonde had twisted her lips in some remembrance, but shook her head.

To Clarke, it was all very Lexa. The neatness, the efficiency. Anything more would have confused the Varro, prompting an interested-border-frustrated hum.

“I see,” Lexa would have said, not seeing at all, “A strange custom. But it occurs to me, Clarke. Funerals are not for the dead, but for the living,”

And Clarke would have laughed, rolling her eyes.

But Clarke now didn’t know if she would ever laugh again. Because Lincoln and Gustus had manually carried the coffin into the room and carefully loaded it into a torpedo tube’s launch cell, closing the air lock behind it. Burial at sea, so to speak.

Anya talked about friendship and duty, upstanding character and deep loyalty. It was a good speech. Lexa would have liked it. Burned around the ears, maybe, but thanked Anya earnestly.

“Lt. Commander Griffin,” Anya finished quietly, “Would you like to say anything?”

The question rippled like a lake within her, but Anya would never have known the depth her question cast.

Clarke swallowed.

“I loved her,”

Anya just looked at her, her dark Ruji eyes tight. For whatever reason, this was acceptable to her. She nodded, and gestured to Monroe, who stood. At the signal, the room was brought to attention. Monroe produced a boatswain whistle, and waited.

With not-quite smooth movements, Anya pressed a panel on the wall behind her, and a soft beeping countdown started. Clarke felt numb.

Her heart beat slowly. She could swear she could hear it outside of her chest.

All of a sudden, her limbs warmed. That wasn’t her heart. It was… real. It was a real sound. Her head twisted round, and Raven cast a concerned glance at her. Anya squinted.

But Clarke just make a ‘wait’ gesture, listening. When Anya’s face lit, she knew it wasn’t just the beat of hope against her ribs.

Soon, the room heard it. Low, slow, disjointed thumps of metal being hit. For all her violence of action, Clarke felt her heart beat in time with those broken sounds. And then it exploded.

“Shut it off!” Clarke screamed, “Turn it off!”

Anya whipped forward and slammed a fist over the emergency stop built into the physical wall, and the countdown ceased. Still, Clarke’s throat, raw and aching from hours of stressed breathing through muffled sobs, opened to shout direction.

“Open the doors! Get her out of there! Get her air!” she was shouting over a confused stir of people, but Raven had heeded her frantic cries. The engineer threw herself at the panel and was furiously typing in overrides.

As soon as the doors slid open, the thump was clear as a bell, and then stopped.

“Lexa!” she gasped. Together, she, Raven, and Anya reached to haul the torpedo casket out of the launch cell, “Someone get an engineer’s tricorder over here!” she called.

Octavia suddenly appeared at her shoulder with that very thing, and Clarke couldn’t – wouldn’t – lift her hand from the casing. Lexa was –, she was-, please, Lexa. Please.

Anya ran slender, strong fingers inside the casing hole Octavia had cut and began pushing the sides of the metal away from each other. Frantic, Clarke joined her, cursing and pleading under her breath. Her fingers and hands sustained cuts, but she barely noticed.

Finally, finally, the panels gave way and slid open. And they uncovered the First Officers face, and Anya felt the strange urge to cry. Lexa looked just as peaceful as she had when they interred her. Until Clarke gasped, her breath filled with wonder and tears of a whole different kind.

“Lexa,” she reached a careful hand out to brush her fingers over the Varro’s cheek, “Come back to me, Lex,” her voice, so soft and low, sweetened even amidst the graveling smoke of her register, “I love you,”

The assurance in the blonde’s eyes, the liquid love pooling down her cheeks, Anya felt it only appropriate to look away. As she did, her eyes caught the Varro’s pale face - with her eyelids fluttering.

She wanted to gasp herself.

But there the Varro was, lying in her own grave, her eyes open and fading in and out of brightness. Clarke gave a sob of a laugh and trailed her fingertips over the woman’s mouth. The twitch of those lips jolted her from the fingers up, and echoed along her spine.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she whispered. Lexa blinked slowly, lethargically, but managed to focus on her. With what looked like great effort, she swiveled her head to see her better. The woman, - _alive!-_ grimaced as she swallowed and parted her lips.

Clarke’s soul sung. Her heart ached, and burned, and tattooed even as Lexa lived. Even as Lexa breathed in increasingly steady breathes. Even as Lexa’s smooth alto, covered in broken glass and jagged wires sounded out.

“M’ Starbrigh…” she murmured, the emeralds going dim again. Clarke smiled like Lexa had built the world with those two slow, slurred, sentimental words.

“Captain,” Lincoln made himself known, looking just as large and solemn as ever. Still, Clarke gazed up at him when he called, and his eyes met hers gently, “Clarke. May I see to her?”

Anya nodded.

“Lt Reyes, I think a site to site transfer is in order,” her voice was calm and keen, and Clarke only blinked through silent tears as the Captain looked at her in repressed joy, “Three to beam,”

Raven tapped away at the wall panel and nodded with a smile, “Three life forms ready to beam. Whenever you’re ready,”

Clarke’s smile was blinding.

“Energize,” 

* * *

**Day: 1435**

Lincoln looked vaguely distressed, but Clarke waited patiently, her hand clasped with Lexa’s on the Varro’s thigh.

“I would recommend physical proximity,” he coughed, looking down at his PADD, “Our research indicates a Varro might find aid in sharing… endorphins with a mate,”

Clarke leaned her hip against Lexa’s bed, and the woman wrapped her free arm over Lexa’s shoulders where the Varro sat. The blonde fixed Lincoln with a raised eyebrow.

“You want us to have sex?”

“Clarke,”

“What?” Clarke threw, her eyes on Lexa’s admonishing viridians, “I’m trying to clarify,”

Lincoln shifted.

“Essentially, it would be the best remedy for a more accelerated re-synchronization,” he huffed, and Lexa’s ears tinted adorably. Clarke didn’t repress the urge to stroke a finger over the soft shell of that cute, living, ear.

“Right,” she soothed to Lexa, “We can work on that immediately,”

The Varro looked appropriately appalled and pleased, a weaker ‘Clarke’ marking her protest. The navigator smiled, uncaring, before looking to the Doctor.

“You’re sure she’s alright?”

Lincoln nodded, and Clarke breathed easier.

“Alright,”

Lexa looked up at her, and Clarke dismissed Lincoln’s presence from her mind. Lexa was alive, and whole, and here, and Clarke had so much to say. The walk back to Lexa’s quarters was slow, and quiet, and Lexa held her hand the whole way. They were given second-glances by nearly everyone, but Clarke couldn’t have cared less.

It wasn’t declared in any way, but Clarke let herself be led to the bathroom by Lexa. One of the few luxuries Lexa indulged herself with; the bath was Lexa’s happy place. She was devoted to hygiene, and rejoiced in feeling clean. It made sense that after dying, she’d want to purge the feeling.

Lexa couldn’t help herself. She gravitated towards Clarke as if by magnetism, though Clarke did nothing but encourage the feeling. She pulled Clarke towards her, and they stood in an intimate embrace as the water filled.

Lexa shifted, and indulged herself a little more.

She nosed under and behind Clarke’s jaw, and inhaled. She groaned, and Clarke laughed wetly. Lexa pulled backwards and wiped Clarke’s cheeks with her thumbs.

“I am here, Clarke,” she hushed out understandingly, “My spirit will stay with you,”

Clarke smiled so broadly, she didn’t think she’s ever stop. But Lexa’s eyes were clear, and present, and her lips were full and smooth. At her flicker of attention, Lexa smiled briefly but leaned toward the woman.

Her first kiss of this lifetime stole her breath, her heart, and her speech. All of it belonged to Clarke, anyway.

Clarke undressed her gently, slowly, and with a care that usually belonged to Lexa. The Varro merely let her do as she pleased, and Clarke was grateful. She kissed the unveiled skin, and quickly divested herself of her own clothes.

Clarke breathed in deeply, her breasts expanding into Lexa’s, and drawing her back into a familiar embrace. Sometime after Clarke settled into the beat of Lexa’s heart under her ear, she started her own habit of indulgence.

The brunette didn’t try to stop the rumbled vibrations in her chest as Clarke traced her spine languidly. She simply smiled and nuzzled her nose into Clarke’s hair further, laying a simple kiss to the woman’s temple.

Clarke stood, completely content, their bodies cool but warm where their skin slid. Warm. Alive.

“Did I ever tell you I loved you?” Clarke asked the purring Varro. Lexa’s voice rusked deep as she laughed and pulled away to look at Clarke fully. Her lips curled and her eyes teased.

“Hm, tell me again?”

Clarke smiled, and Lexa watched the blue eyes go bright and dark all at once as Clarke’s grit-smooth voice smoked a whisper between them.

“I love you,”

Lexa let the words settle into her very bones.

“I love you, Clarke,” she answered. The blonde pressed a smiling kiss to the woman’s curved lips. When she pulled away, she gave the brunette a teasing look.

“I’ve got half a mind to start purring myself,”

Lexa gave an offended scoff, “I do not purr,”

Clarke laughed heartily, “You’re right,” she faux-serioused, nodding for good measure, “You definitely don’t,”

Lexa stepped into the bath, and Clarke followed, draping herself over Lexa’s chest in the weightless water.

“I’m serious,” she rusked, “I love you,”

Lexa tipped her head, her intelligent eyes patient.

“I thought,” Clarke bit her lip, “I thought if I could keep you from knowing it, that you’d be alright. I thought I was doing the right thing,”

Lexa breathed, and Clarke rose and fell with the motion, causing them both to smile briefly. The Varro hummed.

“I know you, Clarke. I have loved you for a very long time. And I am usually content to discuss most everything with you,” she tipped her head backwards, “But the way it seems to me is that I have already died for you. If our love were a weaker one, I might have stayed that way. But I did not,”

She rightened and fixed Clarke with a light, loving look.

“Love is not weakness, Clarke. And life is about more than simply surviving it,”

Clarke could only watch this woman. This beautiful, strange woman who loved her back.

“So, can you explain to me just what in the hell I did to you?”

Lexa suddenly unleashed a laugh, and Clarke grinned monumentally. The brunette nodded, her hands passing over Clarke’s silk skin underwater.

“It is the _olan’vora_ , my Starbright. The shared heart. It is the permanent mating bond between Varro, and it is something my people take very seriously. Contrary to what I initially told you, it is quite rare for Varro to engage in sexual activity outside of it,”

“Oh,” Clarke hummed against her throat, “So I was just that hot?”

Lexa scoffed, “No. You were simply that annoying. Plus, I believe it was you who kissed me,”

“True,” the blonde purred. Lexa’s smile went unnoticed, but not unknown.

“As I was saying, the shared heart. While we have been together, have you felt… light?”

“Gonna need more than that, Lex,”

Lexa huffed.

“While we have sex,” she flattened, “Has it ever been that something inside of you is singing? It can be a chime, or even a glow, it is different for everyone,”

Clarke paused, considering.

“Well, sure. I always chalked it up to you just being amazing in bed, though,”

Lexa huffed a laugh, and Clarke grinned.

“Though I would not disagree, I cannot take all of the credit. That is the _olan’vora_ , and I suspect you only feel it through me. It is an agreement. A mutual understanding of love and devotion. The bond is chosen by both partners, and cannot be undone,”

She kissed Clarke’s hair absently.

“The effects are rather impactful. For one, bonded Varro live a very, very long time. Our current Chancellor is three centuries old,”

Clarke’s eyes opened, alarmed.

“-but as it is, we have studied that interspecies bonding leads to a lifespan not exceeding the Varro’s other half,”

“So, you’re going to live… exactly as long as I am?”

Lexa gave a quiet sound of contemplation.

“I do not know. We are not bonded,”

Clarke paused. Then extricated herself from her comfortable position to lie directly over Lexa, her arms holding her up.

“We’re not?”

Lexa smiled, amused.

“No,”

For some reason, Clarke found herself annoyed.

“Why not?”

Lexa chuffed.

“We have not partaken in the _olan’vora_. I have only been giving you pieces of mine, I think,”

Clarke frowned.

“I want to fix that,”

Lexa lifted an eyebrow and a corner of her mouth simultaneously, “Oh?”

Clarke nodded. She breathed and went vulnerable. Honest. She gained a peculiar look in her eyes, and Lexa nearly frowned.

“I want to love you, Lexa,” Clarke whispered, her blue eyes unafraid, “I lost you. I lost you and the regret of it nearly killed me. Now, I want to give you everything I am,”

Lexa’s heart pounded in her chest.

“Okay,” she quieted, “Okay Clarke,”

The blonde licked her lips, nodded. She smoothly lifted out of the bath, and Lexa followed her. They stepped into the sonic shower to automatically dry, and Clarke took Lexa by the hand.

Sitting on the bed, Lexa looked to at Clarke, her cock long since hardened. When Clarke slipped into her lap, Lexa could only embrace her closely. Clarke leaned backwards to access her face, and they kissed deeply, wetly.

Equally wetly, Clarke’s talents hips started up a slow grinding against Lexa’s dick. Her folds quickened and slicked over Lexa’s cock, the friction unbelievably intense. Lexa’s hands on her ass guided the motions, and it only made the experience more heady.

“Lex,” Clarke breathed, her hands on Lexa’s shoulders, her neck, her face. Lexa slowly took them toward the center of the bed, and laid Clarke on her back gently, not breaking the contact of their mouths.

When she did, it was to kiss at Clarke’s jaw, her neck, her chest, and down. Only Clarke caught under her, and forced her back up. Lexa opened her eyes to see Clarke writhing against the sheets.

“Please, Lex,” she whined lowly, “I just want you,”

And who was Lexa to deny such a request?

Clarke parted her legs, and Lexa laid a single hand over Clarke’s thigh where it hitched over her hip. Her cock ached at the smooth lubricant of Clarke’s sex, and the first roll of her hips felt so natural.

While Clarke behaved, Lexa knew it was time. Overdue, really. She dipped her hips and kissed Clarke, her eyes closed. When her cock hitched into that soft, lovely hot opening, Clarke hummed.

More kisses, and Lexa pushed inside slowly.

Somehow, someway, Clarke always managed to feel hot and tightly new, but scorchingly welcome, the fit of lovely comfort. Bottoming out, Lexa paused.

Clarke gasped, licking at Lexa’s lips.

“Go, Lex,” she breathed. And then Lexa pulled out smoothly. She started up a gentle, easy figure eight of her hips, her stomach flexing, her legs braced widely and secure. Here, she could keep this pace for a very long time.

Fortunately, it seemed like that was exactly what Clarke needed.

“I missed you,” Clarke gasped, “So much,”

Lexa sucked at her neck as she slid inside Clarke smoothly. She buried her face into Clarke’s pillow, turning to press the blonde’s ear with soft kisses and low whispers.

“I missed you, too. Now just feel me, Clarke,”

So Clarke did.

Lexa’s skin, her smell, her warmth, her hands, her soft, feathered hair. And Lexa inside of her, loving in every moment, every deep pull of Lexa’s cock. Sometime later, Lexa went up on her elbows, her hands caressing Clarke’s face and neck.

“Clarke,” Lexa whispered, “Look at me,”

Clarke did, her hands in Lexa’s hair as she kept her face free to kiss.

“My Starbright,” the woman hummed, her nose skimming Clarke’s, “I love you,”

Clarke’s heart fluttered and rolled over.

“Lex,” she breathed, “I love you. I love you so much,”

And then something cracked and exploded inside of her. At first, she though Lexa had come, and her orgasm was washing through her, but she realized as she stared into the starry emerald flames of Lexa’s eyes, that this is what she had been missing.

It was an alarming warmth, a wholeness that took over her body. It slipped inside of her from her lower stomach, and spread like fiery molasses through her veins. Lexa’s expression twisted, and her eyes grew wet, and Clarke couldn’t help but kiss her.

Lexa’s mouth opened, and Clarke licked into her with fervor. The Varro’s cock rocked inside of her, Lexa no longer pulling out but simply pushing, scraping and stirring her deeply, the searing heat of Clarke’s tight cunt more than enough to satisfy her.

The _olan’vora_ didn’t let up. Clarke felt electrified and soothed, terrified and calm, passionate and loved. A tender burn lingered in her pussy while Lexa stroked into her, and her heart pounded madly, the only words in her mind making their way to her lips in short staccato whispers.

“Love,” a gasp, “you,” Clarke nearly spilled the words, pouring from their barely-separated lips like honey, “Lexa. I love you,”

Lexa could only work into the beautiful blonde harder, her cheeks flushed and her chest glowing so hot it threatened to burn her.

When Lexa finally ground quickly, it was to Clarke’s nearly screaming relief, and Lexa held her lover through the throes her pace was sure to elicit. The difference now, though, was that Clarke held to Lexa too.

“With me,” she begged, her belly curled and ready to fall as her sex tightened up around Lexa’s unforgiving length. Clarke pressed desperate kisses to Lexa’s lips.

“Come with me,”

Lexa grunted, burying her face in Clarke’s collarbones, her knees sliding on the mattress but never giving way. Clarke’s cunt spasmed, and she knew it was time. Another, and Clarke’s voice pitched high. Two last thrusts, and Clarke was drowned in her orgasm. Before her very eyes, a wash of light exploded from their bodies, and Clarke gasped in the apex of her high as Lexa’s release filled her, and the golden light illuminated from inside the warmth in her chest.

When her orgasm finally crested, buckled, and folded, the light disappeared in gentle waves, and then it was Clarke and Lexa once ahain.

It had been sex as usual, but more. It had been the physical manifestation of their feelings. How Clarke cared for Lexa, knew her inside and out. It had been Lexa’s patience, and kindness, her velvet-steel generosity in giving Clarke happiness. It had been love.

And as Lexa drew out of Clarke, the blonde tipped them onto their sides, noses brushing. Between soft kisses, they spoke of that love.

“We are bonded now,” Lexa assured, her smile unrestrained.

“Yeah?”

“Mm,”

Clarke traded small, soft kisses for a response. At the rest, she sighed. Love looked good on Lexa, the woman’s eyes quiet and settled.

“When did you know?” Clarke asked domestically, languidly, her hand playing in Lexa’s mahogany curls.

“Know?”

“Yeah. When did you know you loved me?”

Lexa gave her an indulgent smile, her eyes going a little sharper.

“We were in a senior officer’s brief, and Indra was giving a report,” Lexa’s lips were soft where Clarke interrupted with a kiss, Lexa carrying on, “I went to get myself a water, and passed by you. On your PADD, you were reading an article on ion distribution in subspace currents,”

Clarke waited, and Lexa continued to smile to herself.

“That’s it?” the blonde asked incredulously. Lexa smirked at her.

“Yes,”

Clarke scoffed, “No,”

“No?”

“No, I want a new one. Pick something else,”

Lexa laughed, “I cannot. That is when I first thought that I loved you,”

Clarke groaned, “But why?”

The Varro pressed further against her new mate, and skimmed her nose on Clarke’s.

“It is because I love you for your kindness. For your dedication, for you humor and priorities. I love that you are intelligent and engaged in being alive in all moments. I love you for your resistance to what you do not stand for. I love you for many reasons, Clarke Griffin. But chiefly, I realized then, I love you for your passion, my Starbright. And it was so perfectly funny in that moment, so clear, that I never forgot it,”

Clarke was quiet.

She lay in this bed, in these arms, in these eyes, and she was quiet. Inaudibly private, here with Lexa. And she marveled, in awe of this soul that was now irreversibly tied to hers.

* * *

**Day: 1494**

When Clarke decided to accept the _olan’vora_ , it felt like the only thing they did was look for places and ways to have sex. Lexa, for her part, was both thrilled and terrified, quietly anxious about this period of time. She had already considered Clarke’s libido too good to be true, and the ‘honeymoon’ Clarke described seemed a complete dream.

As wondrous as it was, it was primarily time consuming.

Meaning Raven and Octavia came knocking at Lexa’s door and demanded she let Clarke have a reprieve from their ‘No doubt disgustingly good sex-marathon’.

And so it was that two days later, Lexa walked into her quarters half-focused after her shift on the bridge, and stopped fully.

“What… is this?” Lexa’s eyes were wide, her posture rigid in what Clarke could only assume was fear. The blonde stood, still giggling. Stepping lightly, she watched with a deep sense of amusement as Lexa seemed to tense in preparation for some form of assault.

“It’s Girls’ Night!” she cheers lightly.

“We’re practicing for her Bachelorette party!” Raven calls, while Octavia guffaws and slaps her lightly from the sofa.

Lexa frowns in adorable confusion, and Clarke isn’t quite drunk enough to coo and tickle her neck in front of Raven and Octavia. The blonde simply rolls her eyes and plasters a smile on, tipping upwards to press a kiss to Lexa’s cheek sweetly.

“Think you could come back later, babe? We’re just gonna do girly things; drink, paint our nails, talk about how amazing you are in bed,” a filthy wink, and Lexa’s jaw nearly unhinges before snapping her mouth shut with a click.

“I- Clarke-,” she attempts, losing what little traction she had when Clarke clasps her hands together and inhales deeply, pushing her breasts into a zone of impossible-to-ignore.

Well acquainted with the fact that Lexa would gladly take a stun round if her breasts asked her to, Clarke only bit her lip when her lover derailed completely, her emerald eyes tracking helplessly to her cleavage. Raven and Octavia, however, were not so accustom to this tendency.

At their muffled hilarity, Lexa’s eyes snapped to them and then back to Clarke, blushing furiously. She ground her teeth and Clarke finally felt a little guilty. Her apology showed, and Lexa breathed through her nose. Then, her expression turned strange.

“What is that smell?”

Clarke puzzled for a moment, while Lexa stepped closer and inhaled lightly. She sniffed some more and finally reeled backwards with slight concern on her face.

“It is you,”

“It’s perfume!” Raven crowed from where she held a slice of pizza, “Real, too. Swiped it from Monroe,”

While she and Octavia laughed together, Clarke lifted an eyebrow, “Do you like it?” she asked coyly. Lexa gave a twitch of her jaw, frowning.

“No,”

“Oi! That’s fucking rude!” Octavia objected valiantly. Lexa’s face turned thunderous as Raven tried to shut Octavia up with jabs to the ribs, “Apologize to the nice smellin lady, Commander fuckin- HeartEyes!”

Raven finally clapped her hand over Octavia’s mouth and Clarke pushed Lexa back toward the doors when the Varro made a step to close the distance between her and Octavia.

“Don’t pay attention to her, she’s drunk,”

“Clarke! I am the First Officer of this ship-!”

“I know, I know,” she tried to placate, Lexa’s inherent gentleness allowing Clarke to manhandle the taller woman into movement. Not a chance could Clarke push her anywhere the Varro hadn’t felt like letting her. Still, Clarke tried to keep her voice steady, “She’s just wasted, Lexa. It’s nothing personal,”

“It is very personal!” Lexa growled, “A junior officer is commenting on how my mate smells and how I should treat her!”

Clarke smoothed her hands over Lexa’s collarbones and tried to catch her eyes. It would have been easier to send soothing passed of her fingertips over Lexa’s ridges, but her mind flashed back to when Lexa had once asked her about it.

“You do not do this when I am upset,”

They had been calm and bathed, waiting for sleep to claim them in their shared quarters. Previously, Clarke had been soothingly stroking Lexa’s spine, the Varro nearly crooning in comfort as she kissed the blonde intermittently. Clarke had smiled.

“Not a question,”

Lexa grunted in amused annoyance, “Why not?”

The blonde had paused before honestly gravelling out, “I considered it, once. But it feels like that would be manipulating you in a pretty obvious way. And I’d never want that to be a part of how we communicate,”

Lexa had stared at her in the dark for a few moments before initiating the sweetest, most selfless round of sex they’d ever had. Still, Clarke was true to her word.

“Lex, babe, that’s not it,” her voice came low and smoky, just how Lexa likened her to be in the quiet moments between them. She breathed deeply and tried to relax, letting Clarke’s oceanic eyes hypnotize her into calm, “Octavia’s an ass sober, and a jackass drunk. She’s kidding. She would have said something just like that to _Anya_ had she been here, and then passed out from sheer sexually frustrated nerves or something,”

Lexa gave a derisive scoff and quirked her lips at Clarke’s encouraged smile.

“Yes, I supposed,” she allowed, her hands fitted to Clarke’s waist. The blonde hummed and lifted to request a kiss, pressing against her lover fully. Lexa’s body relaxed as she smoothed her lips between Clarke’s, her tongue soothing and wet in her mouth.

They kissed simply and deeply, and Lexa finally pulled away with a twinge of regret.

“So you don’t like the perfume, then?” Clarke teased.

Lexa laughed but tipped her head.

“I was perfectly serious, actually. I do not,”

“Really?”

Lexa nodded.

“Why?”

The Varro wrinkled her nose slightly before clearing her throat minutely, “It covers up your natural smell. It makes you smell… insincere. Like false flowers or casual sex,” she shrugged, “You smell beautiful, all the time, just as you are. It is incredibly sexy, how you smell. I like you better,”

Clarke watched her lover for a beat, Lexa’s emerald eyes honest and clear.

“I really want to kick them out and go down on you right now,”

Lexa’s eyes sharpened and she flexed her jaw. Then, she smiled dangerously, eyes glimmering.

“Not smelling like that,” she gloated.

Clarke laughed so wholly, she buried her face into Lexa’s neck, “Did I ever tell you I loved you?” she chuckled.

Lexa hummed, “Tell me again,”

The blonde leaned backwards to kiss Lexa’s smiling lips.

“I love you,” she kissed.

Lexa kissed her back minutely, “I love you,”

“Hm. Give us a few hours? If I can’t get them to leave by 0100, I’ll come to you,”

Lexa nodded and freed her of contact, squeezing her hands before she left.

“Have fun,” she smiled, before smirking, “Feel free to embellish my skill in bed,”

Clarke winked, “Baby, there’s no need to,”

* * *

**Day: 1532**

“This is going to take at least an hour,” Clarke murmured, adjusting the forward sensors in the shuttle. Beside her, Lexa hummed her affirmation, monitoring thrusters and warp capacity.

Clarke eyed her lover’s profile with affection.

“Lex…”

The Varro stilled. Nothing good could come from that voice in this situation. She didn’t look up.

“Clarke, we cannot,”

“Come on,” the blonde twisted, her expression challenging, “Nothing we haven’t done before?”

Lexa squirmed, her mental reserves being battered by the images of her taking Clarke from behind over this very conn after an inspection. Her cock started to swell and she knew it was a losing battle. Still, it was not her natural disposition to yield so easily.

“That was different. We are on duty,”

“And we performed our duties. Now, we’re just… waiting,”

Lexa bit her lip and didn’t reply. Clarke smirked. She stood fluidly and moved to straddle the woman. Smoothly, her set her arms around Lexa’s shoulders and rolled her thumbs into the soft skin behind her ears, fingers stroking at Lexa’s ridges skillfully.

“That,” Lexa grumbled, “is not fair,”

Clarke grinned, “I’ve got a whole lingerie draw full of not fair, Commander,”

Lexa groaned and stood, taking Clarke with her.

Two hours later, Raven watched them both step off the shuttle. She bit her lip and sauntered over.

“Helloo,” she greeted coolly. Clarke nodded while Lexa only shot her a glance of acknowledgment. Raven leaned into Clarke, “You might want to take your panties out of Lexa’s pocket,”

Clarke spun, and lo and behold, a slip of light blue lace was peeking from Lexa’s back pocket. Lexa, oblivious, nearly yelped when Clarke strode toward her and cupped her hand under Lexa’s ass from inside her back pocket.

The crowd of engineers around them stared.

Lexa’s face was shocked, before remembering what was in her pocket.

“Uhm,” Clarke bit her lip, “Hey,”

Lexa’s features twisted as Clarke removed her hand, patting Lexa’s ass good-naturedly.

Behind them, Raven snorted in hysteria.

* * *

**Day: 1557**

“Lt Commander Griffin!” a Lieutenant called jovially, “I’m taking a team into section Alpha-12,”

“Fine by me,” she replied evenly, her attention entirely on her handhelds. The man shrugged and took off, the remaining half of the away team looking at her curiously before resuming their investigation of the planet’s configuration. Currently, they were in an enormous cave-like structure, crystals providing so much luminescence it was practically day.

They had been there for two weeks now, analyzing and experimenting on the planet’s natural energy sources. Clarke’s head ached slightly, but she didn’t look away from what she was doing.

The navigator took a deep breath and slowly closed her PADD, her calculations impeccable. She ran the numbers twice, three times, even a fourth. Still, they remained the same. Her accuracy was flawless. They always had been, even at the Academy, and her ability to translate them into next steps was just as smooth. Now, though, she was at a perfect loss.

A quiet moment of absolute panic quaked her chest and echoed throughout her body. She didn’t realize the tremor had rocked her legs out from under her until her shoulder hit the cave’s wall.

“Lt Commander Griffin!” a nearby Ensign flagged a hand out to instinctively catch her, but Clarke sent him a placating gesture with a clench of her teeth.

“I- I’m fine, I’m fine,” the blonde waved the concerned man off, but felt her spine shiver as her stomach tossed. Monty noticed her partial collapse and frowned, making his way over. Blue eyes glared at the chirping tricorder the junior officer reflexively hovered over her.

“Lieutenant Green!” the man alerted, seeing the medic, “I’m detecting another life sign,”

“What?” the man paled, “Where?”

The Ensign tapped the device, “Inside of Lt. Commander Griffin. Possibly parasitic,” he murmured. Monty took the tricorder and made a few adjustments, attaching a medical scanner. Looking tense, he ran it over Clarke again. The blonde only sighed and leaned more fully onto the cavern’s wall, closing her eyes.

He gave a shallow swallow and looked from Clarke’s defeated posture to the scan. Shakily, as if Clarke might bite him for it, he tapped his comm badge.

“Lieutenant Green to Captain Triged,”

Clarke breathed.

“Go ahead,” the Captain’s voice answers.

“I’d like to request a shuttlecraft for Lt. Commander Griffin’s immediate return to Ambassador’s sickbay,”

“If it’s an emergency, Green, ask for a transport,” came Anya’s slightly impatient voice,”

Monty hesitates before sending Clarke an apologetic look. She holds her breath for the plunge.

“Energy-matter scrambling is not recommended for single trimester gestation,”

Anya’s tone was sharp, “What was that?”

Monty’s voice was calm, but like sand through Clarke’s ears.

“She can’t beam. She’s pregnant, Captain,”

There was silence over the line, and Clarke felt her world drop away. All she wanted was Lexa. Monty said several more things, and then signed off. He didn’t touch her, which she greatly appreciated.

“Shuttle’ll be here in 30,” he murmured. Clarke breathed deeply and nodded. Opening her eyes, she saw his charming features strained and worried. At this, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You don’t have to look at me like that,”

Monty quickly schooled his features guiltily before breaking out in a sheepish grin. Clarke scoffed.

“I know it’s a little soon, but,” he gave an innocent smile, “Congratulations, Clarke. I’m really happy for you and-“ his cheekbones glowed rosy and the blonde laughed outright.

“Lexa,” she whispered, her body relaxing at the mere mention of her lover. Her love. Her other half. She playfully glared at the man, “It’s definitely Lexa’s, Monty,”

The medic gave an excitedly sheepish grin and nodded.

30 minutes later, a Delta-flyer landed on the planet, the rear hatch opening. Stepping aboard, Clarke paused at who was piloting the vessel.

“Captain,” Clarke breathed, not even bothering to hide her surprise, “Where’s Lexa?”

The Ruji pursed her lips, but otherwise remained stoic at the helm.

“The First Officer,” she annunciated without affect, “has been confined to the brig,”

Clarke gasped, “What? Why?”

The Captain worked her jaw steadily, her eyes on the shuttle’s controls as she closed the doors and plot a course.

“She broke Lieutenant Blake’s jaw, nose, cheekbone, and several ribs,”

Clarke could only sit down at the co-pilot’s seat in shock. She knew repeating ‘what?’ would prove ineffectual with the Captain, but it was all she wanted to do.

“Oh,” is what she substituted. She tried to gain her bearings as the shuttle lifted, “What happened?”

Anya glanced at her, and Clarke could practically hear the Starfleet confidentiality protocol being read to her in Lexa’s easy tones. Instead, the Ruji’s eyes went back to the helm as she articulated succinctly.

“I am no storyteller,” she keyed, “This should be more explanatory,”

And then the digital dash at the center console was cleared away to reveal a security tape of an officer’s briefing. Seated neatly around the table were Anya, Lincoln, Raven, Indra, Bellamy, and…

Lexa.

Clarke’s heart sank as the audio played through. Anya’s crisp staccato was interrupted by the double tweet of a comm badge and Monty’s grainy voice. All proceedings paused while Anya cleared the call.

She saw Lexa stiffen, her jaw clenching and posture going rigid when Monty announced Clarke’s name and intended destination. To their credit, neither the First Officer or the Captain slid glances to the other as Anya directed Monty to regulation.

But Clarke watched in dread as Lexa’s face stilled eerily after that. She was quicker than Anya, it seemed, knowing the only reason someone wouldn’t be allowed to beam. First it was confusion, then shock, disbelief, awe, and confusion again. Her hands tightened around an unsuspecting PADD, and Clarke felt like crying as Lexa was forced to contain her emotions in this half of a second.

Because Lexa looked angry, and hurt, and terrified, and inescapably uncertain. Just from her minute features, the navigator read her lover’s mind.

‘ _Why did Clarke not tell me?’_

Monty signed off, and every pair of eyes were on Lexa. Every pair except one. Next to Lexa, Bellamy gave a huff through his nose and leaned backwards in his chair roughly. He tossed his tricorder on the tabletop carelessly.

“Well, fuck,” he intoned lowly, “Who got to her first?”

And then a bright, electronic snap sounded out, and Lexa was on her feet, one hand extending to grip the man’s uniform. A tug that looked far too easy brought him to his feet, and her other hand curled into a fist and shot forward.

The room immediately exploded into movement, the officers of Starfleet no slacks. Unfortunately, Indra was across the room, and Lexa had already followed Bellamy to the ground.

Snarling, the Varro landed a knee to the man’s chest and whipped another punch to his face. After that, she stood on her own and removed her tricorder from her uniform, handing it to Indra. The Klingon’s face was tight as she took it. Lexa’s jaw worked, her eyes black and focused, but she smoothly held her hands behind her back and let Indra bind her wrists together.

The Varro was wordlessly taken by the bicep and led out of the room while the rest of the officers looked on in shock, a shattered PADD on the table. Not a one of them moved to help the fallen pilot.

The screen switched off, and Clarke looked up to Anya’s grim face.

“What will happen to her?”

The Captain’s lips thinned.

“That is in the hands of our Chief Security Officer. Intervention on my part would be recorded in the ship’s logs as an abuse of power,”

Clarke nodded, breathing shortly. She could see the Ambassador now, and it would only be a few minutes before they landed. Distantly, she noted that Anya’s phrasing left her to infer that if the Captain could let Lexa off the hook without being caught, she would have done it.

“Would I be allowed to see her?”

Anya tipped a look at her. Clarke tried for all the world to look back without flinching. Still, either desperation or pure pity won out, and the Captain nodded. Clarke nearly cried with relief. Then, Anya’s stiletto features twisted an odd sort of softening.

“Lt. Commander,” she began hesitantly, “Commander He’da is a very fine officer. I intend to highly recommend her for any position she wishes in the future,” Clarke nodded, attempting to look like she was following. Anya gave a strange shift in her seat before continuing, “If you were to also make your intended station known to me, I would do my best to see it realized,”

Clarke couldn’t help the smile that stole over her face.

“Thank you, Captain,” was all she said softly. Anya relaxed, nodding.

The remainder of the trip was spent in calm quiet. As soon as they landed, Clarke set off to the brig in sure steps. No one stared at her, only polite nods, so she assumed Anya had ordered the room’s occupants to discretion.

Finding the correct turbolift, she entered and voiced her command. The lift took off with a comforting whoosh, and the small compartment’s serenity surrounded her.

“Computer, hold turbolift,”

Clarke breathed in the ensuing silence. The past two hours had felt like days, and this was the first moment of peace she had gotten. She swallowed roughly and looked down to her own clothed stomach. With hesitation, she placed a hand over her lower abdomen.

Her heart was in her throat, and she suddenly yearned for Lexa’s comforting warmth so much that she ached. Still, she swallowed past the lump in her throat. She shifted her thumb on her stomach and nearly jumped at the thrill that fluttered through her. Clarke breathed deeply and pressed her hand back to her thigh.

“Computer, resume turbolift,”

Moments later, the doors to brig 1 opened, and Clarke’s heart stilled. Lexa sat behind a blue-tinted force field, her hands folded over a frowning mouth, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. Indra and a security crewman stood on either side of the gate, and Clarke looked to the Klingon.

“May I speak with her?”

The dark woman only tapped the holopad next to her. A soft suction chimed, and Lexa looked up as the soundproof was lifted. The blue tint faded and Clarke realized Indra had also lifted the shock reinforcement. Clarke’s heart beat strongly in her chest, and she watched in something close to worry as Lexa’s lean, muscular frame unfolded.

In smooth, clean strides, the Varro was in front of the field and looking at Clarke with an unreadable expression. Lexa’s voice was rusty, but clear.

“Is it true?”

Clarke didn’t even care that Indra and another person were in the room. All she could see was the desperate strength in Lexa’s deep viridian eyes.

“Yes,” she breathed, nearly choking, “I’m pregnant,”

It was the first time she had said the words out loud, and it showed. Lexa’s expression faltered, and her features cracked with vulnerability.

“Did you know?”

Clarke swallowed.

“I suspected,”

“When?”

“A week ago,”

Lexa’s strength seemed to crumble with every exchange. She planted a hand on the field and leaned heavily.

“Why?” the woman ground through a throat of glass, “Why did you not say anything to me? Did you… not want me to know?”

Clarke instinctively reached for the Varro, her hand overlaying Lexa’s through the shield.

“Lexa, no! Of course I wanted you to know. I would have told you,” she protested desperately. Lexa’s eyes didn’t lose their hurt, but she didn’t look away, listening. Waiting. Clarke’s voice was nearing painful, “I just wanted to be sure,” she licked her lips, “And I.. didn’t know how you’d react. We’ve never... We’ve never talked about kids. We’ve never talked about what you want, or what I want, and I didn’t know what to do,”

Lexa’s eyes turned tender.

“Clarke,” she murmured, looking down and back up for strength, “If.. if this is what you want,” her voice pitched strong and keening, “then, Clarke, this is so very much what I also _want_ ,”

Clarke’s eyes filled and wetted at the look of pure love in Lexa’s expression, and she let herself smile profoundly.

“God,” she choked, “I can’t tell you how panicked I was but Lexa, when I found out, I was _so happy_ ,”

Lexa let out a wet, breathless, laugh, and she nearly pressed herself against the force field in full, “Clarke,” she called, her eyes bathed in light and adoration.

Clarke wiped away a spilled tear and glanced at Indra. The Klingon was stone-faced, but met Clarke’s sparkling blue eyes.

“What’s she being charged with? Assault of an officer?”

A breath of a pause, and then Indra’s voice was low, rough, and final.

“Class 2 misdemeanor. Excessive corrective action,”

Clarke’s mind fluttered around the slap on the wrist as Indra turned and punched at the wall panel, and a fading hum sounded as Lexa’s force field was deactivated. The Varro stood, shocked. The Klingon snorted and looked to Lexa with a slight dip of her head.

“On Qo’noS, he would be fought to the death for such a dishonor to your mate and child. Unborn, and he would be gutted like a pig,”

Apparently, Lexa only heard select parts of her sentence. Softly, she whirred to herself.

“My child,”

Then, a loud, unrestrained cry of joy, and Clarke was in her arms, lifted and spun and laughing along with her. Clarke was smiling as she wrapped her legs around Lexa’s waist and steadied her hands on Lexa’s shoulders.

When Lexa kissed her, Clarke couldn’t stop crying and smiling stupidly. Gently, so gently, Lexa let her down again, and slid to her knees. Her face buried into Clarke’s stomach with absolute devotion, worship in her hands.

“Hello, little one,” she hummed, “I am happy you are here. I will take care of you now,”

Clarke laughed, and everything fell into place around her as Lexa stood to kiss her deeply. They exchanged love and joy between the passes of their tongues, and Clarke smiled when Lexa set into the broken purr of Clarke’s soft strokes to her spine.

Lexa’s heart was tattooing wildly as she held Clarke, and the blonde only noticed long minutes later that Indra and the guard were gone.

“I can’t believe you beat up Bellamy,” she grinned.

Lexa gave a derisive snort, her hands never leaving Clarke’s hips.

“I did not. It was merely… excessive corrective action,”

Clarke laughed, nodding sagely.

“Remind me to thank Indra,”

“Do not,” Lexa wafted, “She will not know what you are talking about,”

Clarke only hummed, then, “Lex?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m happy,”

Lexa smiled, her eyes soft and clear, “Yes. There are plans to be made, but I am happy, Clarke. You have given me a great gift,”

The woman laughed, “It wasn’t just me, you know,”

Lexa’s lips turned, and her eyes shone with unadulterated pride. Clarke just laughed, her thumbs stroking Lexa’s high cheekbones fondly.

“Speaking of, we’ve really got to ask Lincoln just how in the hell we managed this,”

* * *

**Day: 1563**

“Clarke,”

“Yeah?” the blonde was sitting on the edge of their bed, moisturizing her arms and legs. She glanced over her shoulder to see Lexa looking agitated and worried. Before her eyes, the Varro started pacing tightly. In nothing but her matching black underwear, the blonde wasn’t opposed to the action.

“I need to speak with you,” Lexa carried on, “about the… baby,”

Clarke turned curious. Lexa had been excessively affectionate over the past week. With Lexa’s hand laid gently over her stomach every night, the navigator went nearly dizzy with joy that Lexa was so happy. Still, Lexa hadn’t said much about it.

“Okay,” Clarke turned her attention on Lexa fully.

“It is about something I know you will not like,”

Clarke tried to calm her automatic need to recoil. Lexa was still here. She was just trying to talk.

“Alright,” she replied slowly, waiting for Lexa to tear her eyes from the floor.

“You must understand, Clarke, I have never seen an infant. I have seen children, certainly. Toddlers, even. But not true newborns. Among Varro, they were closely protected. Among Varro, there are protocols and norms that are engrained into my being,”

Clarke nodded. She knew this already, but Lexa needed to speak in order to soothe herself.

“Thing are a certain way, in my mind. In my blood. And if you need it of me, I will change some things. Having a mate is about accepting changes together. But it does not mean I will not subconsciously resist, and I apologize for that, Clarke,” she broke, and rubbed her temple, flexing her jaw and boring a hole through the floor.

“I can feel the urge for what I know to be right, but that you would find repulsive. I am… struggling,”

Lexa finally looked up, her expression helpless and apologetic. Clarke was frowning.

“Lexa. I’m sorry, love, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,”

The Varro swallowed and nodded. She crossed to sit tensely next to her mate, and Clarke didn’t hesitate to lean against her, a hand going to smooth across her skin.

“Lex, it’s alright. Whatever it is, we can work it out. What’s going on?”

Lexa sighed and spoke to her laced hands.

“Varro guard their young. From the moment of conception until the babe is nearly a full year old. Parents never leave it unattended. To do so would be considered abandonment and a despicable kind of negligence,” Lexa’s voice hitched, and Clarke looked to see tears welling in her mate’s eyes.

“Clarke, I feel… I do not want to leave your side. Ever. It is my duty to guard our child. To ensure it’s safety and undisturbed growth,” she breathed, and Clarke let her heart beat in time with Lexa’s as she listened, “I have a responsibility of such… importance, as I have never felt before. And I feel that if I do not answer this call, I will fail as a parent, as a mate, and as a Varro,”

She swallowed painfully, and felt a tear slip down her cheek.

“At the same time, I know fully that you would find such actions to be intolerably satellite. You would find it overbearing and would soon grow resentful of my behavior,”

Lexa blinked, and two more tears fell.

“I do not know what to do,”

She fell quiet, and Clarke blinked back her own tears. She breathed in Lexa’s pain, and exhaled resolve.

“Lex,” she started, her voice choked before clearing her throat, “Lexa, I love you. I love you so much,” The woman next to her breathed slowly and brought her eyes to face Clarke.

The emerald of her eyes were glass jade, and Clarke smiled slightly.

“You once said Varro parents take turns, right?”

Lexa breathed and nodded.

“Well, try to see it this way: I’m always with the baby,” Lexa’s eyes keened into the oceanic waves of Clarke’s own, “I’m never going to leave them, and I have complete control over what happens to them and when. You’ll be with me most of the time, if you can manage it, and then I’ll get to have a bit of a rest, right?”

Lexa nodded slowly.

“Lex, the whole point of guarding your kid is to protect it. Even when it was just me, you did your damnest to take care of me, and unbiasedly, you did one hell of a job,” Clarke smiled, petting her lover’s cheek, “Now that it’s me plus one, I know you won’t ease up. You’re going to be an amazing Mother, Lexa. I’m not worried about this,”

They shared a moment of quiet, basking in Clarke’s reassurance and love. Clarke added,

“I know you don’t want to manipulate the duty roster too much, but I don’t think people will mind after we tell them I’m pregnant. I want to be with you as much as I can during this whole thing,” she leaned her head against the Varro’s shoulder with a sigh, “Especially because I’m 100% sure Raven and/or Octavia are going to try to talk to my stomach and make sex jokes,”

Lexa laughed quietly.

“Clarke?”

“Hm?”

“I do not want those two near my child,”

Clarke broke into laughter.

“Oh, so it’s your kid now, hm?”

“Yes,”

“Okay. I’ll be sure to remind you of that when they’re wailing at 0200 in the morning and won’t sleep. That they’re your kid, and your problem,”

Clarke felt Lexa shift, and she moved where the Varro prompted until she was seated in Lexa’s lap. The brunette had a comforted smile on her face, happiness and contentment in her eyes. She placed a gentle brush of fingers over Clarke’s stomach.

“I cannot help it, Clarke,” she said quietly, “I am excited for you to say that to me,”

The blonde smiled broadly, nosing at Lexa’s temple. The Varro pressed their lips together softly, and Clarke hummed, stroking down Lexa’s ridges lightly.

Lexa held her for some time, and the two exchanged gentle words between quiet, unassuming kisses. Lexa’s needless fears and Clarke’s encouragement. Clarke’s worries about pregnancy and Lexa’s guaranteed support.

“We’re gonna make it, aren’t we?” Clarke asked contentedly that night. Lexa played with her hair, a smile on her lips.

“Yes, Clarke. And we will make the most of it,”

* * *

** Day: 1587 **

“Lexa?” Clarke asked steelingly.

The Varro looked up from her soup and slowly wiped her mouth. Her jaw twitched, but Clarke smiled enough for both of them. Lexa nodded, and didn’t flinch when Clarke moved closer to press against her side lightly, holding her hand in her lap.

“Guys,” she cleared her throat, and interrupted a lively debate between their friends, “Guys!”

“Oh, hey, sorry,” Wells looked sheepish, and Murphy scowled even harder.

“What’s up, Clarke?” Harper asked cheerily, Monroe wandering over interestedly at the suddenly curious atmosphere in the mess.

“Lexa and I have… news,”

Blue eyes flickered over the large table’s occupants, and she caught Octavia try to trade a look with a neutral-faced Indra. Raven’s black eyes flickered mischievously. She exchanged a look with Lexa and smiled brilliantly.

“I’m pregnant!”

There was a beat of silence, and then the mess hall exploded. People not at their table looked over and cheered as Octavia jumped to her feet and hugged Raven, Wells’ face blanked but later smiled, Harper, Monty, and Monroe clapped and squealed. Even Murphy let his lips twist in a charmed sort of way. Congratulations were exchanged, and the blonde felt her heart implode with joy. Lexa had extricated her hand and wrapped her full arm around Clarke’s waist, practically swelling with pride.

“Clarke!” Octavia bellowed, “Way to go, hot stuff!”

“Nicely done, Lexa,” Raven added, winking. Lexa couldn’t find it in herself to care. She dipped her head in thanks.

Once they had all settled, Monroe disappeared to replicate some champagne.

“Remind me,” Murphy threw, “How long are human pregnancies?”

“9 months,” Octavia supplied the Ornarian, shrugging, “Sometimes more, sometimes less. Still, the baby should be due well after we get to Federation Space, right Clarke?”

The navigator nodded.

“We’re keyed to arrive in the Alpha Quadrant in 8 months,”

“That’s crazy,” Monroe added, passing around the newly arrived champagne, “Bajorans only have 5 month pregnancies. Oh, I guess none for you, huh, Clarke?”

The blonde gave a lamenting chuckle, “No, thanks, Zoe. I haven’t wanted anything that wasn’t pumpkin flavored in a week, anyway,”

Indra gruffed her approval of Monroe’s previous statement, “Klingons. 40 weeks,”

“Betazoids are pregnant for 10 months,” Raven scorned, folding her arms, “You all suck,”

Lexa had stilled, and Lincoln nodded at her.

“Something wrong, Commander?”

The woman shifted before glancing at Clarke and the Doctor hesitantly.

“Varro gestation is 3 months,”

Clarke went rigid.

“What?”

Lexa’s look of deep-seated pride had melting into something considerably more sheepish. Clarke felt herself go boneless and she threw a helpless glance at Monty and his champagne.

“Any chance I could swipe that off you?”

The medic grinned and shook his head. Meanwhile, Lincoln had gone thoughtful.

“The baby’s growth will undoubtedly be accelerated, then. We will need to do a full analysis and genetic projection,” he murmured, turning to Lexa, “Commander, it would be prudent to interview you at length about Varro reproduction,”

“Certainly,”

“Later, later!” Octavia crowed, waving a hand, her expression smug as she looked over Clarke’s suddenly pale face, “Let’s talk about names!”

Raven clapped, “And who gets to be the little spawn’s godparents!”

“How far along are you, Clarke?” Wells asked kindly.

Lexa watched absently as Indra frowned and leaned toward Octavia, “Is this normal human behavior?” The brunette laughed before making a dark chuckle and saying something about a ‘baby shower’.

“As best as I can tell,” Lincoln steadied, “She’s approximately 4 weeks pregnant,”

“Wow,” Raven provided, leaning on a hand, “You sure that’s not the entire first trimester for a Varro?”

Clarke glared while Lexa’s ears went red, and the table laughed. After a while, Anya joined them, and the conversation flowed easily. Helpfully, Anya provided the information that Ruji pregnancies were considered a holy gift, expecting mothers pampered to the point of worship.

“The entire family was revered for as long as the babe was under a year,” Anya said, sipping her drink, “Mothers were given gifts, while Fathers brought her exotic pelts hunted from the jungle for their babe to lie in,”

“Interesting,” Clarke had drawled with a subtle glance at Lexa. Many laughed, but the woman had nodded understandingly at the Captain.

“I agree,” she replied earnestly, “Aboard the generational ship, children were valued highly and were very rare. Each mated pair had to apply for their offspring, and be granted one by the high council. They then guarded their growing child for the duration of gestation,”

“They had to apply?” Octavia asked with indignant confusion, “That doesn’t seem right,”

Lexa tipped her head, “Population must be tightly controlled aboard a ship of thousands,” next to her, Anya nodded her agreement. Then, a sudden thought occurred to the brunette and she frowned, “It is not that way on Earth?”

Clarke and Octavia exchanged a look, and Clarke carefully looked her lover in the eye.

“No, Lex. We can have as many kids as we want,”

The look of shock and awe in Lexa’s clear emerald eyes is one that Clarke will hold near to her heart for the rest of her life. She smiled warmly, hope and love in her chest. Slowly, Lexa matched the expression, their eyes never parting.

“Well you don’t have to make them right now,” Octavia flattened, “Christ,”

Clarke turned to fix her friend with a cocky look, the unspoken accusation of jealousy turning the woman’s smirk into a grimace.

The conversation eventually flowed once more, and Clarke’s spine tingled when Lexa took the opportunity to dip next to her ear and whisper, “A conversation for another time, hm?”

Clarke bit her lip and nodded succinctly, moving on.

  

* * *

**Day: 1617**

 

“Commander,” Anya whipped in her usual direct way, “What are the plans for the Arritheans?”

The Varro’s answer was concise, and Clarke, bored with the briefing so far, basked in the cadence of her lover’s voice.

“Well done. When will their counselor be beaming aboard?”

Clarke refocused, and from the corner of her eye, Lexa pretended she wasn’t annoyed at Clarke’s lapse in focus.

“They arrive this afternoon, Captain, though they have stated they prefer to travel by shuttle. They will spend a 24-hour shift accompanying me as a shadow, learning what they can. Their hope is to host a Starfleet ambassador and respond in kind. From there, trade will be discussed,”

Anya nodded.

“Have you gathered data about the Arritheans so far?”

Lexa nodded to Clarke, and the navigator projected a hologram of the Arrithean home world.

“Arrithea is a small, Class-M planet, marked by its high levels of natural flora. Cataloging the vegetation as well as adding specimens to the hydroponics lab is our intent. The Arrithean people seem to be an incredibly,” she paused, “social culture,”

Anya constricted her brow.

Lexa shifted, “It could be inferred that their intent is not investigating our social structures, as they have stated, but our society itself,”

Anya gave a raise of an eyebrow while Indra gruffed.

“Do they pose a threat?”

Lexa shook her head, “On first impressions, they are a passive people,”

The Klingon nodded and sat back in her seat, “Very well. They will occupy quarters for the night?”

“Yes. Deck 9, section 10,”

Clarke nearly smirked. It was her old room. Apparently not everyone was privy to the information that she had officially moved quarters, but they knew it now. Wells seemed to go darker and looked resolutely at his PADD.

As it was, Anya continued the agenda and they were dismissed. She shot Lexa a raised eyebrow as she stood and collected her things, and practically heard the Varro’s voice chide her to stop looking so amused.

She sent a wink to the Varro, and Lexa clenched her jaw to prevent herself from smiling. Clarke’s grin only grew, and the First Officer huffed her frustration as she turned and left. For whatever reason, she was unable to resist her mate.

As she left to conduct an inspection of engineering, she considered that is wasn’t an unwanted feeling.

At midday, her personal computer sounded an alert reminder, and she dutifully left her tempting work to join Clarke for lunch. In the mess, she joined a line of crewmembers and sent easy, acknowledging nods to them. She found the front of the line shortly and waited for the machine.

“Identification,” the replicator smoothly prompted.

“Commander Al’Lexa He’da,”

A beat, and then.

“Commander He’da, your lunch has been pre-ordered for you,” the Varro’s ears immediately heated as her identification match screen was wiped away to reveal Clarke’s. Behind her, a line of Starfleet crew broke into a quiet, lively murmur, and her ears warmed to a fever pitch.

The replicator opened and slid a bowl full of her favorite type of Bajoran salad and ended with a hollow, “Please enjoy,”

Her ears burning, she allowed herself to only tighten her jaw. Looking up, she caught her favorite pair of crystal blue eyes shimmering in delight.

“Clarke,” the Varro murmured tensely as she found a seat next to her lover, “People are watching,”

The blonde muffled a laugh poorly. No one but her would have discerned the edge of a plea in Lexa’s sweet voice, “No one is looking at us,”

“You were,”

Clarke lifted a brow, “We’re sleeping together. My eyes are naturally attracted to you most of the time,”

Lexa gave a low snort of laughter, her mouth curving.

“If that is your reasoning, I am afraid I have been a busy woman. That entire table is staring at us,”

Clarke turned her head, the table in question quickly ducking and pretending to resume eating. The blonde huffed.

“You have been busy. Sleeping with them, too?”

Lexa rolled her eyes, “When would I have found the time?”

Clarke laughed, “You know, you were supposed to declare your love for me and me alone, and then renounce all others as even noticeable sex partners,”

The emerald eyes echoed laughter, and Clarke hummed in faux-regret.

“Thank you for lunch, Clarke. I did want this today,”

The blonde brightened subtly and started to explain how Lexa always ordered some kind of salad after a breakfast of any Earth food. They gently bantered on the finer points of grease to green ratios in cuisine until Lexa finished her food with a dense sigh.

“I should go. The Arrithean counselor will be arriving shortly,”

Lexa gave a slight twitch of her jaw to accompany this statement. Clarke ran her eyes over her lover and realized what had happened.

“Ah. Anya asked you to do it, didn’t she?”

The woman deflated as much as her posture would allow, “She said that our honeymoon had to end at some point,”

Clarke gave a low laugh, “Nothing says alone time’s up quite like being followed by a stranger for 24 straight hours, huh?”

“It would seem,”

“Will I see you and your friend for dinner?”

“Most likely,”

Clarke nodded and moved to stand when Lexa did.

“Right, I’m off to work on some stellar cartography. Be sure and see me. I’ve got questions for them about their spatial subdivision octants,”

“Would you like I should also bring smelling salts to awaken them?”

Clarke glared, “I will stun you,”

Lexa allowed herself a smug look, “You are always stunning,”

The blonde laughed as she returned her tray, glaring affectionately at Lexa and exiting the mess.

“For that, you get to sleep in the same bed as me tonight,”

“Your mercy knows no bounds,”

Clarke smiled and changed gears, “Alright, kiss me, you have to go,”

Lexa dipped minutely to sweetly adorn the navigator’s cheek with a kiss and a murmur.

“Until this evening,” she regarded uxoriously, “Clarke. Pumpkin,” she spared a parting smile to Clarke’s stomach, and turned.

Clarke hummed appreciatively as her lover walked away.

“That’s disgusting,” a voice called, “You know that right?”

Clarke smiled as she turned and sauntered to Octavia.

“I sure do,” she winked. The woman laughed and led the way to the turbolift. They chatted easily before parting ways, and Clarke lost herself in the task of charting the galaxy she loved.

“Commander He’da to Lt Commander Griffin,”

It took most of Clarke’s Starfleet-issued discipline to respond with an iota of professionalism. She very nearly answered, ‘Yeah, babe?’ Instead, she went with a classic.

“Griffin,”

“Your presence is requested in the mess hall,”

“On my way,”

“He’da, out,”

Clarke shut down her lab and keyed herself up. She glanced at the time with a wince and palmed her stomach. Dinner, already. She was 2 month pregnant, but due to Lexa’s genes, Lincoln estimates she’s as pregnant as a human at 3 months. A lack of pre-existing data makes projections impossible. The navigator sighed and prepared herself to play the good hostess. Entering the mess, she immediately noticed Lexa with the Arrithean counselor.

They were standing at the counter of Ensign Monroe’s fresh order kitchen, the ambassador speaking. Clarke crossed to them and smiled as they jointly turned.

“Lt Commander,” Lexa intoned, and Clarke’s eyes sharpened with interest at the hidden layer of desperate warning, “May I introduce the Counselor of Arrithea, Costia,”

“Welcome to the USS Ambassador, Costia,” Clarke started, “I’m Lt Commander Clarke Griffin,”

The Arrithean was perfectly humanoid looking, the only exception to a human’s features being her wide, vivid purple eyes and the small bursts of gently glowing light that orbited her head. Other that that, she had caramel skin and midnight black hair. She gave a curtsy.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lt Commander Clarke Griffin,” she smiled amicably, “I notice you host a fetus inside of you. You are human, are you not?” she sent Lexa a serene look, “Is it normal for humans to be that size?”

Clarke blanched, while Lexa cleared her throat.

Costia looked intrigued and explained, “I have never met a gestating human before. I have many questions,”

The blonde navigator breathed deeply, her mind screaming at Lexa for bringing her to this strange creature.

“I am sure Lt Commander Griffin would be happy to satisfy your… vast curiosity,” Lexa alleviated smoothly, “Though it would be our preference to have you join us for dinner first,”

“That sounds splendid, Lexa,” Costia eased, allowing Lexa to shepherd the Arrithean forward to retrieve her food.

“ _Lexa?_ ” Clarke mouthed behind her back, and her lover shot her a deeply annoyed look.

“ _Later,_ ”

Sitting to eat, Clarke, Costia, and Lexa joined the Captain and Indra where they were finishing their meal. The Klingon and Ruji expressed interest in Costia’s experience so far, and exchanged pleasantries for a short while. When they had excused themselves, the dark-haired woman turned.

“I am deeply interested, Lt Commander Clarke Griffin,” Costia immediately laid in, “How is it you came to host your subunit?”

Clarke slowed her cutlery with a smile.

“You can call me Clarke,” she laughed, “And humans typically conceive children sexually,”

Costia tipped her head, “Interesting. It takes more than one to produce offspring?”

The blonde nodded, “Exactly two, really. Same as Romulans, Klingons, Varro,” she gave a noting look towards Lexa. Costia hummed, thoughtful.

“Then who else designed your fetus, Clarke?”

Lexa stilled, while Clarke searched quickly, “Well, we don’t actually design children. Once they’re conceived, the children grow and mature as the combination of genes dictate,”

“Yes, Arritheans have many of these reproduction tactics. My important question was who your co-creator is. Unless-“ she cocked an eyebrow, “Is it some form of taboo to speak of the child’s other maker?”

“No, no. It’s not at all. It’s usually a point of pride. You’ll have to excuse me. My baby’s mother is actually Commander He’da,”

She waved a hand while Lexa dipped her head serenely. Costia looked delighted.

“Most interesting!” she clapped her hands, “And your species are able to breed together?”

“So it would seem,” Clarke replied gamely. Lexa was flexing her jaw, and Clarke knew it was only a matter of time before her lover iced over completely. Unfortunately, Costia didn’t stop.

“I wonder, how large is your litter?”

“Um, just one,”

“That is not many. Optimum reproduction comes in pairs, Clarke,”

“Well, we can always have more,”

“Yes, I see,” she seemed disappointed, and Clarke felt the urge to comfort her stomach defensively. Instead, she shoveled mashed pumpkin in her mouth. A moment, and Costia perked as she turned to Lexa.

“Lexa, I would be so very interested in inspecting your genitals for data. May I?”

Clarke choked. Lexa’s eyes blew wide and her jaw dropped.

Costia tipped her head at their twin reactions and frowned, “I have done something strange just now, yes? It’s alright, in the interest of friendship, I will let you observe mine. I haven’t birthed any children, but it still might be useful to you,”

Costia smiled diffidently, “I would so be honored, Lexa. I have a thrilling suspicion your reproductive organs are magnificent,”

“Okay-“ Clarke started darkly, her temper exploding. She held her stomach and prepared to kick this woman’s ass. Lexa’s hand shot out to her leg, and the Varro cleared her throat before speaking.

“Lincoln,” still shell shocked, but clear, “Our Chief Medical Officer, the finest Starfleet has to offer. Dr. Lincoln Reed. I’m sure your… no doubt superb, er, replicating systems… would be much more appreciated by his trained eye,”

Costia looked deeply pleased by that idea. She nodded resolutely.

“That would be most enjoyable,” she sighed, “Now. Please tell me more of your mating history, Clarke,”

Clarke sighed while Lexa clenched her jaw and looked for help. The blonde steeled herself. Lexa had never been a good diplomat. It was something she inherently loathed, and Anya knew it. Clarke prepared herself to help her lover. She pasted a smile on.

This would not be fun.

That night, after Lexa had shown Costia her sleeping quarters, Clarke got a good idea of just how stressed and grateful the Varro was.

It was a nearly unavoidable aspect of Lexa’s nature. Not that Clarke would even think about wanting to avoid it. Who didn’t want to be ravished for hours on end? But Lexa was something else entirely.

The Varro’s eyes closed in prolonged blinks as she savored Clarke’s taste and reactions, her lips leaving Clarke’s sex every now and then to bestow kisses to her smooth inner thighs. Her hands travelled with her whim, over Clarke’s hips, her breasts, thighs, and more often that not recently, her distended stomach. She even hummed with satisfaction, thrilling Clarke.

Obscene suckles and wet drills of her tongue felt like a lullaby to Lexa, and Clarke knew that this was one of the things that simply set Lexa at ease. She derived pleasure from granting Clarke hers.

For her part, the blonde woman writhed and keened as her pussy clenched around a tongue, her clit bunching and relaxing as Lexa toyed with her soothingly. Clarke clenched the pillow behind her, a hand in Lexa’s hair but not pushing. She knew Lexa liked to feel the weight of her encouragement, as well as the spasms she failed to suppress. Her body screamed to race to a finish of spectacular consequences, but this was as much about Lexa as it was her. She was smart enough to recognize that her lover was trying to gift her with something, and asking for another thing was just bad manners.

“Lex,” she called, breathless. The green eyes opened slowly to meet with her own, and Clarke gave a watering, sluggish smile. Her thumb twitched a stroke through Lexa’s hair, and the Varro whirred with pleasure. Clarke was nearly suffering. But Lexa’s hands held her breasts, slid to her ribs, her hips. One reached to give a deep, appeasing pressure to both sides of Clarke’s clit, and her tongue slipped inside.

“Ah!- Mm-, Lexa!-“ Clarke gave a fully body shudder and a hiss, and Lexa surrendered herself to Clarke’s patience.

Switching, Lexa sealed her lips around the blonde’s clit softly, and pushed two fingers into Clarke’s wetness. Her cock gave a jealous throb, but she ignored it. Lexa gave light jogs of her tongue over the tight bundle at the same time as hooking her fingers and pulling in rhythm.

Taking Lexa’s change of pace as acquiescence, the blonde gasped, gave a high-pitched squeal and left her body to pull taught as it was racked with built-up ecstasy.

However many moments necessary later, she opened her eyes to find Lexa gently cleaning her, careful to avoid her clitoris. Her heart purred.

“C’mere,” the blonde croaked, smiling languidly. Lexa laughed.

Covering one side of her body with her own, Lexa reached Clarke’ face and let her mate suck her own essence off of her tongue, palm warm on Clarke’s belly. Lexa jumped when Clarke ground towards her erect cock, and the navigator raised a playfully asking brow.

“Not quite yet, please?”

Clarke winked around her own laugh, kissing her sweetly.

“Whatever you say, baby. What do you feel like?”

“Inside?”

“Mmm. Yeah, you’ll have to give me a second,”

“I know,” Lexa chuckled.

Clarke just smiled back, too lost in post-orgasm haze to roll her eyes. The brunette nosed under her jaw affectionately.

“How was our girl today?”

Clarke grinned at their ceiling. Her lover was convinced their baby was a girl. Lincoln hadn’t revealed anything, but Lexa for some reason was stunningly confident in her prediction.

“Good,” she replied, “We got bored in the briefing this morning though, so we apparently felt it was a good time to practice judo,” Lexa chuckled, tracing patterns on Clarke’s belly, “Then, we had lunch with Mama, and we liked that, so we went back to sleep and stayed that way until dinner. Where we suffered through hearing _exactly_ how we were made,”

Lexa’s lips twisted.

Clarke sighed forlornly, “I think I have to give up macaroni and cheese,”

“Mmm. I noticed,”

“I’m sad about it,”

“Varro do not eat cheese,” her tone was smug and Clarke scoffed.

“Why do you sound like you’ve achieved something?”

“She will be Varro,”

“ _They_ will be half Varro no matter what,”

Lexa didn’t reply, and Clarke frowned slightly, nudging her lover.

“What is it?”

And Lexa, beautiful, serene Lexa, pulled her head from Clarke’s neck to send her a vulnerable look. Clarke immediately went soft and delighted in the nakedness of her expression and how it matched the nakedness of their skin.

“I am afraid if she does not have Varro markings, she and others will not identify me as her parent. Humans would not,”

Clarke considered this.

“Lexa,” she cupped the brunette’s jaw, “You will love her too much to ever let that be a question,” her face went warm and light, “Besides, you forget that she already knows who her Mama is. She moves when you speak,”

Lexa’s ears pinked in delight at the reminder, and she caught Clarke’s hand to kiss it gently. She nodded.

“Thank you,”

Clarke simply smiled and re-settled, “So, how’s about that second round?”

* * *

It was an unfortunate side effect of the _olan’vora_ that Lexa didn’t foresee, and it frankly made her feel like a toddler without a cuddle toy. She sighed and refocused on the ink-black of space, and the stars that her love was so devoted to.

“Commander,”

Lexa turned at the voice, and nodded to the Captain.

“Captain,”

Anya smiled slightly, “Can’t sleep?”

Lexa glanced down at her cooling replicated cup of tea. It was always better when Clarke brewed actual leaves.

“No,” she confirmed, casting an eye over her senior officer, “You?”

The woman shook her head, “I’m actually perfectly fine. Ruji don’t sleep the same hours as humans. Do Varro?”

“More or less,”

“Interesting. What keeps you awake then, Commander?”

The brunette tipped her head, “Clarke,”

“Oh?” she prompted.

Lexa flexed her jaw, “I am physically unable to sleep without her presence. A result of our biology’s fusion,” she folded her hands together, “It has to do with my body’s security and protective instincts prior to periods of vulnerability,”

“I see,” Anya murmured, “Did you not think to accompany her for this away mission?”

The Varro shifted, but didn’t feel insulted or attacked.

“Now that our relationship is widely known, I did not deem it appropriate. And considering the counselor asked Clarke, specifically, to accompany her, doubly so,”

“Ah. So really, you want to avoid The Arrithean prying?”

Lexa made a sound of affirmation, while Anya looked amused and thoughtful as the Varro picked up calmly, “And you know humans and their love of personal details. Especially those they’re unwelcome to,”

The Captain gave a low gravelling that seemed to come from her chest, and Lexa recognized it as the Ruji laugh. She allowed herself a smile. Anya and she were of the minority on the ship to be non-humans. As was the Starfleet standard. It was never a point of contention, but they enjoyed a small sense of camaraderie in the knowledge.

“Indeed,” Anya chuckled, the laughter like rocks grinding together in rhythm, “I once overheard an entire engineering team discuss the finer points of Lt. Commander Griffin’s hygiene regiment,”

Lexa laughed and enjoyed her friend’s company for the night. They eventually wandered into a holodeck and went mountain climbing, and Lexa felt tired but rejuvenated by the end of it. She just wanted to see her mate.

And see her she did.

The next day, Clarke had nearly boxed her in the ear.

“Next time, you’re on your own,” she had growled. Lexa merely tried not to laugh.

She failed miserably.

In their debrief, Clarke couldn’t help the dry tone her entire report had.

“I believe the Arrithean government will be more than satisfied with their data collection,”

Anya’s eyebrow raised.

“Meaning?”

The navigator huffed, “It’s going into Starfleet record that Arritheans are… very interested in interspecies sexual relations,”

The entire room seemed to hold in a laugh. Clarke glared and rolled her eyes, finding her seat once more.

* * *

**Day: 1678**  

“Clarke?” Raven rubbed an eye tiredly, “What’s going on?” she yawned and then snapped awake to fully alert as she heard a sniffle.

The blonde stood in the Betazoid’s doorway in nothing but a large, long, nightshirt, and no pants. She was pregnant, and crying, and clutching a pillow.

“Holy shit, Clarke, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” the woman waved, wiping her eyes, “I’m fine,” she hiccupped and gathered herself. Raven stared. And Clarke’s eyes filled with tears again, “I’m just so fat! And I’m eating everything, I have to pee all the time, and I’m hungry, and seaweed and ice cream sound so good right now! But it’ll make me even fatter! I used to be hot, you know?!”

Raven’s jaw dropped. Stupidly, she said, “I know,”

“See!” Clarke bawled to herself, holding the pillow to her, “I _used_ to be hot! I haven’t been able to properly have sex in weeks, and Lexa’s breathing is annoying me right now, and I can’t bend over! My bras don’t fit because my boobs are just- I feel like a dairy cow, Raven!”

The brunette only nodded. Clarke was 4 months along, and she was very obviously pregnant. Raven vaguely remembered Lincoln estimating her friend to be in her third trimester.

Meanwhile, Clarke continued to cry in the corridor. She dropped her pillow and held her own face before looking to the cold grey ceiling.

“I mean, I’m going to start leaking milk any day now, and Lexa won’t even care because she _loves_ my boobs, you know?”

“Yeah,”

“And it’s insane! She sometimes forgets what she’s doing when I’m topless, and there’s nothing I can do about it! I don’t mean to fucking _hypnotize_ her, but it happens! I mean, look at them!”

Clarke cradles her own breasts in her hands, looking forlorn.

“Holy- okay,” Raven quickly took her friend by the bicep and shot a glare to a passing night duty Lieutenant, “Clarke, get inside,”

Once inside, the blonde breathed deeply and sat on the Betazoid’s couch. With extreme caution, Raven edged down next to her.

“Do you…” she coughed, “You hungry?”

Clarke shot her a miserable look.

“Yes. I want… fries. And marshmallows,”

“Right,” the freaked out look Raven had accidentally plastered on faded as Clarke ate her replicated food. The woman frowned and tried to read her pregnant friend. The effort nearly gave her a headache as Clarke’s hormones raged inside her small body, her mood fluctuating like a warp core.

A while later, Raven fixed Clarke with an expectant look and the blonde sighed.

“Sorry. I just... got a little wigged,”

Raven grinned, “I’ll say,”

“I was just lying in bed, trying to get comfortable, thinking about everything all at once. And Lexa was just… asleep. I have no idea why, but I got so mad,” she rolled her eyes at herself, “I’m pregnant and ridiculous,”

The engineer laughed.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. Even though it’s weird to think the Commander sleeps, ever, you know I’m here for you and the little bean,”

Clarke smiled gratefully.

“Wanna watch some Bajoran dramas?”

Raven smirked at Clarke’s look and made arrangements. After a few episodes and a lively debate over whether Qu-thaNdru was really cheating, the Betazoid looked her friend over.

“So, how’s the pregnant life treating you?”

Clarke laughed, palming her stomach, “It’s good, generally. I can’t stop eating pumpkin flavored everything, I have to pee every six minutes, and I can’t have sex from behind,” she shrugged, “Pros and cons,”

Raven laughed fully.

“Lexa won’t have sex with you?”

Clarke scoffed, “That would never happen,” Raven rolled her eyes and Clarke chuckled, “No, specifically from behind. I just don’t want to,”

“Why not?”

The blonde sent her a droll look.

“Have you ever taped a fuel cell to your stomach and then gotten on all fours?”

Raven paused, the mental image playing out.

“No. No, I don’t think I have,”

Clarke huffed, “It’s a lot like that. And it’s horrible, because the more pregnant I get, the more I love sex. But the fatter I get, the lazier I get,”

Raven stifled a bout of hilarity and she almost wished Octavia were here for that one.

“Lexa sounds patient,” she commented dryly.

“She’s a saint,”

Raven absently asked, “So, where does Lexa think you are now?”

Oddly, Clarke didn’t reply. She turned to see if the blonde had nodded off, and was surprised to feel guilt rolling off her best friend in waves.

“Oh no,” Raven warned, “Don’t tell me,”

“See, I didn’t exactly wake her up,” Clarke toyed with her pillow’s hem, “I just kind of left,”

Raven paused. And then shot to her feet, tugging Clarke towards her door. The blonde yelped and protested in shouts before being cut off by Raven’s nearly panicked expression.

“Clarke, that is Al’Lexa He’da! A Varro who will destroy me and everyone else on this ship, if she thinks something’s happened to you! Get the fuck out, right now!”

“Raven, Raven, calm down! She wouldn’t do that,”

“Yeah, to you! To me, she’d do it with a smile! Or as close to her stoic, stone cold ass can get to it!”

“Hey! She’s not-“

“I don’t care, Clarke!” she slammed a hand over the door’s panel, and it slid open smoothly, “Out!” she ungracefully shoved the pregnant woman out of her room, and she winced when the blonde stumbled straight into the First Officer’s uniformed chest.

“Uhm. Hi,” Raven grimaced. “Bye,” and she closed the door.

Clarke bit her lip and looked up into Lexa’s displeased expression.

“Hii,”

Lexa gave a huffed look of conflict, her eyes going over the rest of the corridor. Her chest rose and expanded and she shrugged out of her uniform blouse, handing it to Clarke.

The blonde only recently realized she was cold, the chill of space prevalent. That, or it was her lack of pants.

Lexa waited for her, and then held out a hand. Gratefully, Clarke laced her fingers into Lexa’s and they walked back to their room, Clarke leaning into the Varro like a drunk woman.

Once inside, Lexa sat down on the couch and looked very tense. Clarke sat next to her guiltily.

“I’m sorry, babe,” the blonde sighed out and watch Lexa intently, “It was nothing about you, it wasn’t anything, really. Pumpkin’s just got me jumpy sometimes,”

Lexa finally moved, and she finally allowed the feminine vulnerability to leak into her eyes. Clarke rested a hand on the woman’s thigh and rubbed gently.

“I should have told you I know that now. If I stop to think about what I’d have felt if you’d have done this to me, I would have been freaked and hurt, and I didn’t mean that for you,”

Lexa watched her, and Clarke could practically feel her heart rate slowing.

“Really, Lex, I’m sorry. I’ve got to start thinking in terms of pairs, even when it’s uncomfortable,”

The Varro nodded and leaned backwards on the sofa. Clarke smiled in relief and crawled onto the woman’s lap, Lexa’s head nuzzling to rest in the dip of her throat. Clarke placed a kiss to the soft brown curls.

“I love you,” Lexa murmured, “I worry,”

“I know,” Clarke eased, forgiving and safe, “We’ll get better, both of us,”

Lexa hummed, holding Clarke tighter.

* * *

**Day: 1729**

On the Earth’s calendar, Clarke went into labor in the morning. Lexa had never known such stress.

Clarke was very large, and in a large amount of pain. Her organs were crushed in her day to day life, and Lexa had been heart-breakingly sympathetic the entire time. But this was absurd.

Clarke was gritting her teeth, which gave way to periodic yells, which gave way to eventual screams. Her objection that ‘Griffin women didn’t need drugs’ was a frightening growl that had Lexa turning to Lincoln with matching fear and confusion.

Most frightening of all, was when Lincoln had quietly told them both, Clarke sweating and strained already, that their baby wasn’t rotating properly. Lexa had no idea what this meant, but had read enough to know what an ‘emergency cesarean section’ was when the Doctor said it.

“Do it,” Clarke had huffed, her back nearly arching as another contraction wracked her body. Lexa had never seen her look so devastatingly strong. Or actually strong, for that matter. The bones in Lexa’s hand radiated pain, but she wasn’t letting go of Clarke’s hand even if the Borg had appeared and ordered her to.

Lincoln drew up a curtain shielding Clarke’s abdomen from view, but Clarke would still occasionally howl and breathe in broken, quick pants.

For Lexa, it went on forever.

Until Lincoln nearly shouted from behind the curtain with the medical staff, “We’ve got her!”

A heart-stopping handful of moments, and then a shrill cry split Clarke’s panicked breath. Immediately, Clarke’s head tilted back and tears poured down her face. Lexa didn’t know what else to do but wipe at Clarke’s face. There was no guideline for this, no precedent.

She felt lost, but Niylah stepped around the curtain and handed Lexa the softest, heaviest bundle of swathed fabrics that Lexa had ever seen. And in the fabric, a very, very small, very red, immeasurably precious baby lay, hiccupping unhappily.

Her heart felt like it had detached from her chest, and been replaced two sizes too large. She turned helpless eyes to Clarke, who was only watching. Lexa gently, oh so gently, set their baby in Clarke’s arms.

And it seemed that hours passed while the galaxy went on without them. Time weighed nothing while Clarke held their daughter, Lexa smoothing Clarke’s sweaty hair.

Kisses were gifted, and trickles of love poured from overflow. An indeterminate amount of time later, Anya appeared to sign their baby’s official birth records.

“E’katerina He’da,” Clarke announced.

After Anya was Raven, then Octavia. Gustus, Monty, Indra, and all of their friends.

Healing her c-section, Clarke requested Lincoln not to eliminate her scar. The Doctor had merely glanced to Lexa, rocking her daughter in the corner. The First Officer only smiled, and Lincoln did the same.

In their quarters, it was a private world. Anya had allowed them both maternity leave, Clarke for the entire duration until home, and Lexa for two months, at her own insistence.

“Organizing the Ambassador’s final reports and return checklists is my duty,” she whispered to Clarke regretfully. They were laid in bed together, waiting for Erina to inevitably wake up crying.

“I know,” Clarke soothed, “It’s only one month. Then we’ll be home,”

Lexa hummed.

“Home,” she crooned wistfully, “We will live together?”

Clarke scoffed.

“You’re demented if you think I’m giving up my personal chef and chief changer of the diapers,” Lexa rusked a laugh. Clarke smiled, “Besides, you’re up for promotion after this mission, aren’t you?”

Lexa hummed her affirmation.

“Senior Commander. Though it does not matter,” she waved tiredly, “We will be together, whatever may come,”

Clarke bit her lip, then pressed a kiss to Lexa’s neck.

“Yeah,”

She breathed deeply, baby powder and Lexa in her nose.

“God, 5 years went by fast,”

Lexa woke up just enough to laugh.

* * *

** Day 1830 **

Arrival to Earth had been easy, and complex. Clarke had never thought she’d have to worry about giving a mission debrief while Lexa rocked her daughter to keep her from screaming, having lost a shoe that Raven had gifted them at their baby shower.

“They’re lined with biothermal insulation. Pumpkin’s feet will be protected even if the temperature drops below minus 40 degrees celcius,” the engineer had assured.

Nevermind the fact that Irina wasn’t even wearing them. She just liked them. Raven, to Lexa’s grim resignation, became Erina’s favorite aunt.

“Do not manipulate my child’s emotions, Raven,” Lexa had ground out, leaving Raven to babysit. The Betazoid had reluctantly agreed, turning to Clarke with a petulant,

“But she cries,”

Clarke had only laughed.

The last laughing matter of the day. Lexa had been summoned by an official of Starfleet Command – Vice-Admiral Abigail Griffin. Clarke had received a more polite meeting request from her mother almost immediately afterwards.

Still, Lexa had left that morning with a general idea of how she wanted this meeting to go, and she hoped Clarke’s mother wouldn’t think too lowly of her after it was finished.

Vice-Admiral Griffin’s office was large, opulent, and fitting a woman of her position. It would intimidate those who let it, large windows looking out onto Starfleet Command’s central square, decorations that Lexa knew to be at the expense of a young Clarke.

“Vice-Admiral Griffin,” Lexa dipped her head.

“Commander He’da,” the woman supplied, rising from her grand desk elegantly. Lexa met her, and shook the woman’s hand firmly, “Please, have a seat,”

Lexa took it, her dress uniform pristine, her service cap balanced on her knee.

“Al’Lexa He’da,” the woman read from a holo-tablet in front of her, skimming and then setting it aside, “I have to say, your record is quite impressive,”

Lexa merely nodded her thanks. Abigail kept her features cool and continued, “More impressive, though, are the preliminary reports from your latest mission. Outstanding work, with top-notch reports. It’s pristine. Your character leaves nothing to be desired, your actions reflect that much, and the paper trail you leave is immaculate,”

The Admiral fixed her with a careful look.

“You’re thought of very highly around here,” she waited, but Lexa hadn’t heard a question, and felt no need to speak. The older woman considered the Varro.

“What do you think of your reputation, Commander?”

Lexa didn’t shift. She simply thought for a moment and responded cleanly.

“I am honored to be thought of as such, and I am reassured to hear my work has benefitted others. But I know I am fallible. I am not fool enough to think differently,”

“You’re saying you have weakness?”

Lexa’s green eyes flashed, her mind conjuring Clarke just last night, singing and swaying, Erina latched and nursing calmly.

“Yes,”

Abigail neither smiled nor frowned; she simply leaned back in her chair. Another moment passes in silence where Lexa felt no need to explain herself. The Admiral then nodded.

“I admire you, then, Commander. It will serve your new crew well,”

Lexa tightened, “Admiral?”

The dusty-haired woman confirmed with a jolt of her head, “Humility looks good in the chair, He’da. You’ll do well. I’ll send word of my endorsement to the counsel at once. You’ll receive word shortly about it. Galaxy-class, the USS Sarajevo.

Lexa felt her muscles remain stiff, but kept her features disciplines.

“Forgive me, Vice-Admiral, but I am… confused,”

“Commander,” the woman said, a pleased sort of expression playing around her mouth, “We want to give you command of your own starship,”

The Varro paused.

Then, she set her posture with a soft movement of finality. Abigail’s features slid into one of confused amusement. Lexa’s green eyes cleared as they locked on the human’s own.

“Vice-Admiral Griffin, I am afraid I have unintentionally wasted your time. I was unaware this promotion consideration lead to an advanced position. If I had known, I never would have pursued it,” her features settled, and her voice was measured, clarity in every syllable, “I must respectfully withdraw my name,”

“You want to stay a Commander?” the woman nearly scoffed, disbelief the only predominant sound in her words.

Lexa nodded crisply.

“I have recorded it into my personal logs, but I feel the need to tell you,” she steeled herself, “I have given myself as a mate to your daughter, and she has accepted. As a Varro, this complicates matters in terms of logistics. To separate from Clarke would cause both of us immense physical suffering and prove fatal to me,”

Abigail felt her heart constrict, and Lexa noted the flicker that caught in the woman’s throat, but disappeared just as quickly.

“Oh,” she managed, before nodding concisely, “Well, that’s something to consider as well,”

The Varro knew her lover would have been crushed, that this was her mother’s reaction to what was a very significant event in her life. Not even considering that it was the next to largest piece of information. Still, it was not up to Lexa to fight Clarke’s battles, especially not here.

“And your decision to turn down the Captain’s chair?”

Lexa’s face remained impassive, “I wish to pursue something more stable,”

Abigail tried not to pause.

“I’ll withdraw your name from consideration, Commander,” the Vice-Admiral nodded professionally, “It does not change the fact that Starfleet would like to grant you a promotion for exemplary service, as well as the Starfleet Medal of Valor,” she tipped her head in acknowledgement.

“I heard you risked your life on a number of occasions to save your crew. I’m sure mothers everywhere would think the award was fitting,” the woman gave an attempt at a smile, though it looked forced.

Lexa flexed her jaw. If only the Vice-Admiral knew how close to the chord she struck.

“I suspect you would like to reconvene with your peers to determine what effect my decline will have, as well as next steps,”

Abigail nodded, still slightly confused, “Yes. I’ll contact you later to set up a meeting time,”

“Very well. It was a pleasure, Admiral Griffin,”

A short walk out of the office lead Lexa to a bustling atrium, and the sun of her life met her as she breathed in what she had just done.

“Hey, beautiful,” Clarke greeted the Varro easily, her eyes sliding over her lover’s flattering dress uniform and tense posture. More tense than standard protocol called for, even when meeting with a Vice-Admiral, “How’d it go?”

The blonde watched as Lexa’s jaw twitched, the emerald eyes glancing around the loud, moving, atrium.

“The meeting was incredibly informative,” she hedged, and Clarke frowned. She bit a lip and nodded, looking around as well. A check to her watch and she sighed.

“Lex, we can step away, but we don’t have time to get anywhere private. You gotta tell me what I’m about to walk in to,”

The taller woman nodded tersely before following Clarke to a slightly secluded area, out of the way of traffic.

“Where is Erina?”

“With Raven. Come on, talk to me,” the blonde soothed, not touching the Varro, but dipping her head to keep Lexa’s eyes. The brunette breathed shortly but nodded.

“I told your mother about our mating,” she panned, watching Clarke’s eyebrows raise.

“Okay. Hell of an opener, Lex,”

The brunette’s lips twitched, “I assure you, an effect, not a cause,” she glanced to her shined shoes before catching Clarke’s slightly worried blue eyes, “Your mother offered me the Sarajevo,”

“You’re being transferred?”

Lexa shook her head.

“I don’t understand,” Clarke tried, stepping closer to the woman and placing a hand on Lexa’s clavicle. The brunette gave in and supported her lover, a hand going to her lower back, the other gently capturing Clarke’s and interlacing.

She pressed a kiss to their linked hands, and Clarke felt the pieces slide together, “She gave you a Captaincy?”

Lexa didn’t leave her lover to process the ramifications of that idea, Clarke’s hand reflexively going to her stomach.

“I turned her down, Clarke,”

The blonde looked quickly between each of Lexa’s steady, clear green eyes. She didn’t bother asking anything further. Lexa had never made a rash decision in her life, and she was quick enough to realize what the Varro’s actions meant. Lexa was offering to stay planet-side. Lexa wanted to stay with Erina.

Stupidly, tears welled delicately in her eyes, and she smiled.

“Did I ever tell you I loved you?” she whispered.

Lexa’s eyes went deep with satisfaction. She lowered her head minutely to brush her nose to the bridge of her lover’s.

“Tell me again,”

The blonde gasped out a laugh, “God, I love you,”

“I love you,”

“You’re ridiculous,” Clarke laughed, pressing a short, intimate kiss to the taller woman’s smirking lips. Lexa merely lifted a brow.

“You are the one making a scene in the main atrium of a Starfleet Command Headquarters,”

Clarke glanced around, and realized that foreign diplomats, civilians, and vendors alike were casting strange looks their way. Lexa didn’t so much as turn her head, eyes entranced by the woman in her arms.

“Oh,” the blonde aired, “That’s… well, I guess we should get married now,”

Clarke stepped away as Lexa frowned.

“What?”

The blonde tipped her head, “If we’re going to do this whole life-bond, raise-children-together, I-die-when-you-die, thing,” Lexa chuffed, amused. Clarke sent her a charmed look, “We need to at least be romantic about it,”

Lexa scoffed, “Your idea of romance is to propose marriage to me in your mother’s office?”

Clarke tipped her head, considering.

“I can traditionally do better, but pretty much. Yeah. I’ll fix it at our wedding, I promise. There’ll be tears and everything,”

The Varro huffed, “First, you are assuming I agree. Second, we are not sure what our future assignments are, and the timing is not good. Third, I am in my dress uniform and uncomfortable. And fourth, you have also assumed I want a human wedding,”

The blonde was laughing even as Lexa fussed. She pressed gentle fingers to Lexa’s mouth, the green eyes crossing briefly to focus on them. Clarke grinned.

“First, will you, or will you not, marry me?” her voice curled and twisted, Lexa’s heart following every syllable, “Nod,” the woman demanded, fingers still on Lexa’s lips.

Lexa nodded.

“Good,” Clarke continued, “Second, the first time we slept together, we were about to die while running from a Hazari hunting party, aboard a ship that wasn’t even ours. Timing has never been our strong suit. Remember?”

Lexa nodded.

“Third,- what was that third thing?” Clarke lost her momentum, frowning. Lexa shifted slightly, and Clarke caught the hint, “Right! Your uniform. So, I’m going to continue my day, thinking about how hot you look in your uniform. And tonight, I’m going to take that uniform off of you, and you’re going to show me how frustrated you’ve been all day. Okay?”

Lexa nodded.

“As for the human wedding… Well, we’ll talk about that one. Alright?”

Lexa nodded.

“Now,” Clarke breathed, “You’re going to kiss me, and then I’m going to have lunch with my mother. Sound good?”

Lexa nodded. Clarke removed her fingers, swiftly replacing them with her lips. The brunette gave a pleasant hum of surprise, and smiled as Clarke pulled away. She loved when Clarke got this way.

“Permission to speak freely?” she dared, and Clarke’s eyes shimmered.

“Granted, Commander,”

“For the record,” she gave the blonde a soft, affectionate look, “I would very much like to marry you,”

Clarke took a quick intake of breath and let it go. Of course Lexa was too perfect. She really should have a word with her about that. Then, Lexa tipped her head and murmured to herself thoughtfully.

“And I suppose having a marriage certificate on file would help with future duty assignments,”

Clarke lifted a droll eyebrow, “Is that your idea of being more romantic than me?”

Lexa smirked at her and stepped away, resuming her professional posture. She gave a small dip of her head.

“I will pick up Erina and see you tonight,”

And then she was gone. Clarke folded her arms around herself and watched the Varro walk away, her strides that smooth precision she’d always loved.

“I’m getting married,” she hummed.

Joy split her face before she bit her lip, shaking her head. She turned to the task at hand and steeled herself. Time to face the music.

Tracing Lexa’s route was easy.

Stepping through the doors was not.

It had been years since she’d last spoken to her mother. But with Erina in her life, she knew this was the right thing to do. She had approached Lexa with her idea. Her mate had simple tipped her head, her intelligent green eyes calculating.

“Why?” she had asked.

“Because,” Clarke had breathed back, her fingers kissing the top of their daughter’s beautiful head, “I could never live with myself if she hated me. If I did something, and she never let me make it right,”

Lexa had only watched her carefully, and then nodded. Clarke knew her hesitation was only borne from her concern for Clarke, and having Lexa’s support meant the world to her.

With Lexa’s unwavering love in her heart, Clarke pushed into her mother’s study.

“Clarke!” her mother stood, excited and, if Clarke knew her still, nervous. Her mother looked good, older, but good.

“Hi, Mom,”

Abigail went to embrace her, and the effect was… awkward. But she tried.

“How about some tea?” her mom prompted gingerly. Clarke nodded.

“Tea would be great,”

Her mother seemed relieved, and went about making it. In the stillness, Clarke looked around, her heart catching at the holoframe of herself as a toddler.

“Here you are,” her mother handed her a teacup and saucer, and sat on the couch. It was clearly used very infrequently, but Clarke joined her.

“So,” her mom tried, “How… How have you been?” she swallowed a most likely too-hot mouthful of tea, “I had Al’Lexa He’da in here just before you,”

Clarke’s mouth twitched.

“Yeah, I know,” she dried. Abigail smiled hesitantly, and Clarke let herself be bolstered by the mental image of her lover occupying this space before her. She set her teacup down.

“I’m going to be honest here, Mom,” she started in. Her mother looked both relieved and bracing, “I wanted to meet with you. I want you to be in my life. I want to be in yours. Even if it’s as infrequent as this. So, to start with,”

“Mom,” she breathed, her eyes hard, “Lexa and I have a daughter,”

Admiral Griffin dropped her teacup.

“What?” she swallowed.

“Her name is E’katerina. We call her Erina,” she breathed and tilted her head, “Sometimes we call her Pumpkin. Sometimes Pumpkin-face,”

Her mother looked like she was choking, but Clarke tried to beat her to the speaking punch.

“She’s almost three months old, and she’s beautiful, Mom. She’s almost ready to roll over,” she smiled lightly, “I thought at first she was growing too quickly, but that’s apparently just what babies do. I had the doctors confirm, especially since I only carried her for 6 months before she came,”

“You-“ Abigail cut her off, tea seeping into the carpet, “You carried her? You were pregnant?”

Clarke smiled weakly and derails, “Yeah. I don’t even remember what it was like. I know it sucked most of the time, but my body keeps telling me to have more kids like, right now,” she draws in deep breaths, “I’m sorry you didn’t know, but. We were in the Delta Quadrant,”

Her mother just swallows and nods, not speaking. Clarke sits and waits.

“E’katerina,” the woman repeats softly.

Clarke grits her teeth and steels herself, “Would you like to meet her?”

Brown eyes fix her with a shocked look. Clarke meets her eyes calmly and with a patience she didn’t have before Erina, addresses her mother’s clear question.

“Mom, just because you and I never had a great relationship, doesn’t mean I don’t want you in my life. Or in Lexa’s, or our daughter’s. And I want Erina to have a Grandma,”

Abigail’s breath hitched.

“So if you want to, I’d love to introduce you. But Mom, I’m not kidding here,” Clarke’s posture iced, “If you come around, you have to stay around. I’m not going to let my baby girl grow up to be abandoned,”

The Vice-Admiral would have flinched if she had been less prepared for the accusation. But she only rolled with the blow, knowing it was deserved. Clarke wasn’t angry, and her daughter’s maturity thrilled her through and through. She cleared her throat and forced her well-rehearsed shields to power down.

“Clarke, I… I’d love to meet her,”

Blue eyes regarded her thoughtfully before nodding, “Lexa’s going to get her from our friends’ place, they’re watching her. But I figured you and I could… catch up. Then, we’ll go see her. Sound alright?”

Abigail agreed woodenly, blinking rapidly to prevent her eyes from misting. Tentatively, she gave her only daughter a smile.

“Yes. That sounds-. That’s more than I could hope for,”

Clarke smiled, and her mother’s posture relaxed as she returned the expression. They had a lot to discuss, love and forgiveness to exchange, but Clarke was hopeful.

“In the mean time,” her mother prepped, “I have to clean this mess up. Why don’t you tell me about… Lexa,”

Clarke grinned, and went a little pink.

“Well, for starters, we’re getting married,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, help. What would you like to see next? (because my indecision and passion will destroy me if I keep trying to write all of these at once).  
> 1) TIME; Historic or Modern?  
> 2) AU; Friends Adopt, Harry Potter, Half Blood, or Circus  
> 3) SEX; G!P or Non?
> 
> As always, you all are lovely people. Come wallow in Clexa with me: katkonstant.tumblr.com
> 
> With Love,  
> K


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in humble repayment for the wonderful art by queersk

 

Erina, thumb securely in her mouth, regarded the Ruji with passive interest, her wide, still teary green eyes fixed on Anya’s black-marked face. Anya’s gaze returned the respectful attention, before she flickered approving eyes to Lexa as they sat on the couch in the Varro’s home.

“She is an attractive creature,”

Lexa’s laugh was low in her chest, and Erina shuffled into the sound’s vibrations.

“She looks like Clarke,” Anya’s lips pursed slightly – a smile on any other person, “You as well,” she dipped her head in indication, “Your eyes. Green, yes. But observant. As you are,”

Lexa hummed.

“I would change nothing about her,” she replied wryly, patting her child’s back in a fashion formed entirely out of habit, “There is something strange that occurs within to make it so, but I am convinced she can do no wrong,”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Anya smirked minutely, and Lexa cocked an eyebrow, her quick mind puzzling out the response before she nearly smirked as well.

“You have never been one for social visits, have you?”

The Ruji’s gravel rock laugh ground into the comfortable air before Anya nodded, “And I think I never will be,”

Lexa’s eyes lightened to a fond regard.

“How can I help you, Captain?”

Anya dipped her head.

“Your affection for your young is encouraging, in light of the request Starfleet Command has received,”

Lexa’s light eyes dimmed, hardening in dark, professional curiosity. She had known Anya, and Starfleet, for far too long not to be cautious. Unconsciously, her hold on Erina tightened.

At Lexa’s silence, Anya merely grimaced.

“The United Federation of Planets is looking to expand into an alliance agreement with a new party. They have commissioned Starfleet to act as an attracting intermediary however we can,”

Lexa’s spine braced while Anya paused, her fingers steepled together between her knees. The Varro adjusted the weight of her daughter, feeling the little girl ground her like a planet’s core.

“Anya,” she steeled.

The Ruji nodded, acknowledging the unofficial request. Protocol will be observed where necessary. With two sets of emerald green eyes, one aged and dark, the other unsullied and preciously innocent, now was not one of those occasions.

“Starfleet is asking you to bring E’katerina aboard a peace-keeping mission to meet with a prospective ally for the Federation. They’re a rising power in the Delta Quadrant and have requested proof of a lasting relationship,”

Lexa’s arms turned to velvet-clothed concrete around Erina. Anything to shield from what Anya was about to say next.

“It is Varro, Lexa. Your people,” Anya tipped her head forward at the babe, “and hers,”

The Varro in question merely hummed, processing. Her thumb stroked over the subtle ridges on her daughter’s neck, Erina chortling a high-pitched laugh. Anya couldn’t stop herself from mimicking the expression.

Lexa noticed.

“Curious, is it not?”

Anya nodded.

“Human young are so helpless. To rely solely on their charms? A dangerous life,”

“And yet you ask me to make it even more dangerous for her,”

Anya met Lexa’s sharp eyes.

“It is a peace-keeping mission,”

The Varro wanted to scoff, but recognized her wife’s mannerisms in the impulse.

“And the Ambassador was an exploration,”

Anya sat back on Lexa’s couch, accepting the parry for what it was meant to point out. She breathed the modest apartment’s clean, human-sweet air and didn’t look away from her comrade’s eyes.

“I ask you only to consider it. A two-week mission and nothing more. I cannot say space is without its dangers. Such would be foolishness and a lie. But I can promise that this is a mission the Federation has a fixed interest in,”

Anya sat forward once more and Lexa found the message the Ruji was trying to convey in her final words.

“Tell me, Commander, do you enjoy teaching at the Academy?”

Lexa’s mind went bright with questions but Anya’s posture warned her from them. Instead, she took a long pause, Erina’s heartbeat in between both of her hands.

“The Varro will not pass the Federation’s membership requirements,”

Anya waved a hand, “That is far in the future, and not of your concern,”

Lexa lifted a single brow unthreateningly.

“Indeed. It occurs to me, old friend,” Anya smirked as Lexa went on, her green eyes dark in intelligent suspicion.

“The Varro are not a world-going peoples and are xenophobes to near devout standards. They dismiss the Federation’s doctrine of interplanetary unity as impure, and they would rather be destroyed than apply for membership in order to receive aid,” Lexa flexed an eyebrow, “Leading me to believe that the United Federation of Planets wants something the Varro posses on their side,”

Anya didn’t move, and Lexa squared her jaw at the non-reaction, her eyes flat and deadly. She had her answer.

“Anya, I will consider this. But I am trusting you to tell me if my family would come into harm’s way,”

The Ruji paused; her eyes flickering to the creature clung to her oldest friend’s chest. She nodded.

“You would not deal directly with the point of contention. I will do everything in my power to ensure it,”

Lexa breathed in Anya’s oath, and exhaled acceptance. She angled her head backwards in acknowledgment, “I will speak with Clarke,”

Anya’s eyes flickered, and Lexa’s voice returned with an edge.

“This is not an answer,”

Anya dipped her head, “I realize,”

Lexa nodded, satisfied. Anya would do many things for Starfleet, but she would never compromise her values for them. The Varro observed Anya stand in a finalized manner, and she copied the movement, guiding to the door.

“You know, some day it would be nice to see you when you are not inciting life threatening missions,”

Anya’s lip twitched, “It is peace-keeping,” she corrected, subtle humor drenching her rasping voice.

Lexa smiled mildly.

“It is good to see you, my friend. I will stay in contact,”

Anya stopped and turned, her eyes going light. She extended a hand out to Erina and stroked her forefinger down the little girl’s nose.

“ _Em-door_ ,” she murmured. Lexa recalled the word from the Ruji blessing Anya had adorned Erina with when she had been only a day old. Anya’s eyes returned to Lexa, and she touched the Varro’s shoulder.

A Ruji hug.

“Give Clarke my welcome,”

Lexa nodded, and Anya was gone. Alone, Lexa sighed into the quiet of their living quarters. She shifted her weight and fixed Erina with a lost look of consideration.

“For once, I do not think your Mama will enjoy coming home,”

 

* * *

 

“Clarke,” Lexa watched her wife closely, “I think this is something we should speak about,”

The blonde paused, and turned, her furrowed brow telling.

“I don’t understand,” Clarke started slowly, winding up in pitch as she went, “You’re saying we should consider this? This – the bringing of our one year old on board a Federation Starship so she can be judged by a xenophobic people on whether her existence is valid or not? Is that what you want to talk about?”

By the end of it, Clarke’s grip on the uniform had left wrinkles, but Lexa chose not to point this out. Instead, she grit her jaw, forcing herself not to speak until her thoughts were formulated.

“Clarke,” she began, and the blonde nearly threw the linen. Sometimes Lexa was too calm. Too rational. This was their child, and her safety was worth working up an emotional proton bomb.

But Lexa was Lexa, and her patience was nearly limitless.

“Clarke,” Lexa repeated, watching the prickling fight leak out of Clarke’s posture. The Varro stood, and stepped to reach a hand out, her expression pleading.

Nearly resentfully, Clarke glared at Lexa’s open palm. When distrustful eyes slid to hers, Lexa suppressed a small smile at her wife’s childishness. At the twist of Lexa’s lips, Clarke rolled her eyes and breathed. The lift of her hand felt to Lexa like a puppeteer’s, and her heart lightened in synchrony.

When Clarke’s fingers slipped into Lexa’s hand, it preceded an immediate lightening of Clarke’s chest. An electric signal of hormones and nerves raced down Lexa’s spine and settled into her bones.

Clarke’s heart became more pronounced in her own ears, stilled, skipped, and started again as it synched itself to beat in time with Lexa’s once more. As she locked eyes with her wife, an eerie full-hollowness bloomed in her chest, caving and bursting in a wash of emotions.

The first few times she had felt it, Clarke had nearly run from the room, but Lexa had been delighted. It was, as Lexa had struggled to convey, an effect of the _olan’vora_. Bonded Varro pairs were able to synchronize their feelings to the point of near telepathic communication. But Clarke was human, and Lexa had never thought to expect it.

As it were, it seemed their bond was strong enough to simulate a diluted version when in contact with the other’s skin. Clarke had eventually found the joy in the connection, and Lexa was only ever incredibly proud.

Though she had nearly come to blows with the Federation doctors who had expressed a persistent, badgering academic interest in the phenomena.

So when Clarke felt misting, hopeful warmth in her chest, she wasn’t truly alarmed, only surprised at the contents. Unaware she had closed her eyes and drawn closer to Lexa, the blonde frowned lightly in confusion at her wife.

“You actually think this is a good idea,” Clarke remarked slowly, “How is that possible?”

Lexa returned the steady gaze without flinching, “I think this is the opportunity we have been looking for,”

Clarke lifted an eyebrow in skepticism, and the Varro nodded, elaborating.

“If we are able to influence and mediate a new Federation ally, I would be eligible to apply to join an executive agency of the Federation,” she tilted her head, “And Anya has given her word that the mission is not dangerous,”

Clarke breathed deeply, hesitation stirring in her chest.

“Lex – things are different now,” she bit her lip, and Lexa focused on the emotion behind it. Clarke searched for words, but closed her jaw, huffing again before rolling her eyes, “I can’t believe I’m the lame one right now,”

Clarke searched for a smile, and resigned herself to her wife’s natural tendency to take everything too seriously.

“Listen to me,” Lexa ground, her anxiety and solemnity swirling in Clarke’s chest, “This is a decision we make together. There will be complete cohesion,” her eyebrows furrowed, never looking away from Clarke’s resilient expression, “Our daughter is no bargaining chip. We protect her first, always. Our family is the only side we will ever stand on. Please be honest in this consideration,”

Clarke watched her wife in careful regard, letting Lexa feel the contents of her heart. She knew there would be concern, worry, fear, and even a thread of resentment, but Clarke knew there was love enough to drown in.

“Lex,” she started, bringing a hand up to stroke Lexa’s cheekbone, “I know you only ever want good things for Erina and I,” she smiled lightly, “I promise we’re a team. We’ll figure it out,” she crooned, reassurance in every syllable. Peace filtered through their bond, and Lexa turned her head to kiss Clarke’s palm.

“The world doesn’t end till we say so,” Clarke said softly.

Lexa’s smile bloomed into Clarke’s hand, and the Varro nipped at Clarke’s thumb gently.

“You are good to me,”

Clarke stepped closer to her wife, meeting her lips in a kiss. Lexa felt love sparkle up her spine like flares, curling and smoking in her stomach, creeping lower. Clarke broke the kiss with a laugh, feeling her wife’s flash of arousal.

“Why don’t we eat first?” She smiled, her eyes laughing, “Then we’ll put the little one to bed and talk,”

Lexa hummed, keeping hold of Clarke’s hand as she stepped away, “I did not prepare dinner. I am sorry,”

Clarke waved her wife off, “I brought back food from that one place with the ribbons on the door,”

Lexa paused.

“Are you speaking of the Thai restaurant where we had our first date?”

“Oh,” Clarke said, thinking, “The one where Erina spit up on the isolinear chip with your lecture plans?”

Lexa’s expression went through three shades of amusement.

“I suppose,”

“Then yes. I got food from that one place,”

 

 

* * *

 

“She down?” Clarke asked, not moving her eyes from her PADD. Lexa hummed affirmation, moving neatly in the dimmed light of their bedroom. She disappeared into the adjoined bathroom, and Clarke could hear her wife’s efficient progress through a nightly routine.

“One of the stars are out in her nursery,” Lexa said.

“Hm?”

“A light has been damaged,”

“What constellation?”

Clarke felt Lexa’s weight settle on the edge of their bed, Lexa ordering something from her personal computer.

“Ursa minor,” the Varro responded absently. Clarke made a noise and frowned at her reading.

“Which?”

Lexa’s response was delayed, her attention on ordering some replacement part or another, “I believe – Polaris,”

Clarke made a noise of objection, and Lexa huffed a laugh. Clarke heard her shut down her computer’s interface and set it on the bedside table.

“I do not think Erina would understand ‘alpha usrae minoris’, Clarke. Polaris will have to do,”

Clarke finally looked up when Lexa set a hand on Clarke’s waist, leaning to kiss her softly. Her fingers skimmed the bare skin under Clarke’s shirt, and Clarke smiled into the kiss, Lexa grinning against her lips in tandem. Clarke cleared her expression and set her PADD aside, her hands now free to correct Lexa’s angle, deepening the slide of their lips.

She hummed into the welcome feeling, Lexa shifting closer. Clarke broke backwards with a slow smirk, her blue eyes challenging, “By the time she’s going to school, she’ll be telling her teacher that it’s a yellow-white supergiant, spectral typed between F7lb and F8lb,”

Lexa smiled into Clarke’s skin, pressing slow kisses to Clarke’s jaw interestedly, “Is that so?”

Clarke hummed, closing her eyes to the feeling, her shoulders unknotting but her stomach fluttering, “Yup. She’s going to know that Polaris’ got 2,500 times our sun’s luminosity, making it the brightest Cepheid-variable star visible from Earth,”

Lexa laughed into the sweet smelling skin under Clarke’s ear, her nose skimming as she spoke, “Why are you allowed to lure our daughter into astrometics, and I am not allowed to read Federation law codes to her?”

Clarke grinned, settling down under her wife smoothly on the bed sheets, her hands carding through Lexa’s soft hair, “I don’t think ‘lure’ is a fair word,” she said in challenge. Lexa smiled, adjusting to press the length of her body over Clarke’s.

“I found her playing with a deactivated parthenogenic implant,” Lexa kissed.

Clarke laughed once, inhaling sharply as Lexa ran her teeth over a sensitive spot on her neck gently. Her hips ground upwards, and Lexa pressed her growing hardness to Clarke’s leg in instinctive response.

“You can thank my mother for that one,” Clarke breathed, a hand moving under Lexa’s arm to stroke at her back.

Lexa’s mind had been sparkling in gentle saturation of lust, and Clarke felt a flare of irritation as Lexa immediately gave a dismissive sound of rejection.

“Clarke,” Lexa whined, her hand wrapping around Clarke’s thigh and pulling slightly, “Please, can we not talk about your mother as we are about to have sex?”

Clarke put on a scandalized expression, “What, you think you’re getting some tonight? After the shit you let Anya pull in our own home?”

Lexa paused from where she had started up a slow grinding rhythm that made Clarke’s cunt clench in anticipated delight. Her wife’s expression went considering, thoughtful even. Lexa’s green eyes roved, and Clarke smiled as Lexa went up on her knees, humming deliberation.

“You make valid arguments,” she said interestedly, pulling her shirt over her head. Clarke smiled excitedly, biting her lip. Sex simmered in her eyes, and the hand she had on Lexa’s thigh let her know that her wife was a painfully aroused.

Lexa continued stripping until she had only one article remaining. She cast a reasoned eye over Clarke hungrily.

“Are you not warm?” she asked serenely, her eyes at incredible odds with her tone. Clarke laughed and sat up, Lexa kissing her briefly before assisting in removing her faded Starfleet Academy tshirt. And just as Clarke knew, Lexa’s eyes locked with her chest, following her movement as Clarke laid back down, raising her hips.

“Do you miss me pregnant?” Clarke asked through thick amusement. Lexa finally tore her eyes away from Clarke’s full chest to help her out of her sleep shorts and underwear, tossing them aside.

“No,” Lexa said honestly, “I loved you at every stage of your pregnancy, but I was required to be much too cautious with your breasts,” she breathed deeply, and her eyes went flat. Clarke inhaled, her heart pounding as Lexa’s intense desire filtered into her chest.

“Clarke?” she asked quietly, green eyes flickering between Clarke’s flushed pink cunt and oceanic expression of want.

“Yeah, babe” Clarke breathed, nodded rapidly, “Sure,”

Lexa groaned like Clarke had given her a gift, and swiftly settled on her stomach, wrapping her arms under her wife’s thighs. She stroked the skin there, one hand splaying over Clarke’s stomach, lovingly caressing the 6-inch ridge of light scar tissue.

She pressed brief kisses to Clarke’s thighs and opened her mouth as she inhaled. Immediately, Clarke’s scent went to her head and her mouth flooded with anticipatory saliva. She felt Clarke’s tremble echo inside her own chest. Lexa breathed again, and she suckled soft kisses to the outside of Clarke’s labia.

Lexa felt a hand steady in her hair, and she opened her eyes to see Clarke staring at her, love and affection fighting desperation and joy. The expression tumbled through Lexa’s heart, threatening the urge to rise up and kiss her wife delicately.

Her cock throbbed, and she ground her hips into their mattress in instinctual reflex. Lexa closed her eyes and let the sizzling at the base of her skull race down her spine. She tipped her head forward and licked a wide stripe up Clarke’s cunt, the heat intoxicating.

Clarke gave a jerk of surprise, and her shock of satisfaction filtered through their bond, flying up Lexa’s spine. She gave Clarke several more laps, and her wife melted into the sheets, tense and ready. Lexa didn’t smile, but her chest simmered in pride as she worked Clarke into a fever.

Clarke interrupted Lexa’s serene line of work with a none-too-gentle slap to her shoulder, her fingers moving to line the ridges of Lexa’s spine and rub. Lexa groaned, her hum echoing into Clarke’s dripping cunt.

Lexa saw stars and decided she was taking far too long. Throwing away her ideas of making sweet, slow, love to her wife, she brought her mouth up to Clarke’s clit and sealed her lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves, her tongue making broad, hard laps over it. Clarke jerked intensely, her fingers digging into Lexa’s hair and spine.

Harsh, unrelenting rhythm raked at Clarke’s sex, and her cunt clenched, heartbreakingly empty. Lexa’s chest panged as her wife’s impending orgasm yearned for fullness, but the fire lining her spine squashed the feeling. She resisted the urge to slip a finger inside Clarke’s drenched heat, flexing her hand to keep Clarke’s hips flat on the bed.

She felt Clarke wind up and up and up, a tidal wave threatening to crest and break. Clarke’s cunt flexed, empty but flushed with pleasure, and her legs shook.

“Lex,” she panted, her eyes shut but her brain sizzling and swimming, “Lex – fuck- God-!”

Lexa’s tongue shrilled protest, but she kept up her cadenced movements, her speed exceeding that of any human’s. Finally, Clarke’s sex convulsed, her hips jolting as she arched off the bed. Lexa nearly smiled, but she sustained her pulses over Clarke’e clit until her wife’s body uncoiled. Long moments of waving pleasure, and Clarke breathed deeply, her mind returning to her.

She slumped to the bed, panting briefly. Her blue eyes sparkled down at Lexa, who simply suckled sweet kisses into Clarke’s lips, cleaning the mess she had made. Clarke smiled, laughing lightly.

“C’mere,” she whispered, her eyes lost in heated love, “C’mere,”

Lexa wiped her mouth and rose, her body stretching in attractive coils of muscle over Clarke. Her hands flat on the bed, she laid a kiss to Clarke’s lips and smiled when Clarke did. Lexa felt Clarke push at her underwear, and cerulean eyes glimmered.

“Well, I guess we could have sex tonight,”

Clarke’s voice was a wrecked smoke, and Lexa smirked. Her eyebrow lifted as she allowed Clarke to tug her underwear. The angle wasn’t quite right for Clarke to get them off herself.

“You would do well to remember how you achieve the majority of your orgasms,” Lexa murmured.

Clarke inhaled. The scent of Lexa’s soaps and sex overpowered her senses, her fingers gliding over her wife’s stomach. Lexa was always warm to the touch. Varro internal temperature converted her skin into a smooth expanse of tempting heat, and it was addicting to Clarke’s fingertips. She ran palms flat around Lexa’s back, returned to thumb the ridges of her ribs, caressing her breasts and fitting Lexa’s nipples between her fingers, rolling gently.

Lexa’s cock seethed in jealousy, straining against the fabric of its confines. She bit her lip, her skin cooling the longer she was separated from Clarke’s subtle warmth. Clarke lost her patience, one hand guiding down Lexa’s sternum, over her stomach, flipping over to take the base of Lexa’s length into her palm.

Lexa groaned, her eyes fluttering, and Clarke’s eyes went nearly black at how hot Lexa’s cock was, even clothed. Clarke writhed against the sheets, the thread count fine but somehow sending an itch through her entire body. She squeezed Lexa’s cock, and watched as Lexa grit her teeth, bucking into Clarke’s hand.

A devilish flutter of a smile, and Clarke had released Lexa’s dick, slipping a teasing finger under the elastic. She toyed at it, and Lexa’s eyes opened to send a colossal glare down into her wife’s charming, triumphant expression.

“Am I gonna have to do all the work around here?” Clarke whispered, oceanic eyes gleaming and flat. Lexa nearly growled.

“Work to try and be quiet please,” Lexa scowled, finally freeing herself from the prison of her underwear. She could have sighed in relief at the exposure to air, and Clarke gave a sub-audible groan of approval as Lexa kicked the garment off.

“Whatever you say, babe,” Clarke purred, her fingers curling through Lexa’s hair. Lexa spared a laugh, planting another placating kiss to Clarke’s lips. A steady thrum started up in her chest, and she felt their _olan’vora_ brighten in love as she settled between Clarke’s legs, one elbow on the mattress.

Clarke’s golden locks were sprawled on her pillow, and Lexa’s previous mood cooled at the thought in her mind’s eye. She slipped her cock between Clarke’s labia, the heat intoxicating and welcome.

“You are still so very beautiful, Clarke,” she whispered in soft tones, Clarke’s eyes going soft but smiling.

“Lex,” she breathed. Her cunt was empty and aching, and Lexa didn’t make her wait long. Lexa spared a hand to guide her cock to Clarke’s silk-soft wetness, and the head of her cock slipped inside with a gentle push.

Lexa’s spine rattled in hot bliss, and she thrust in gentle waves until Clarke took her in completely. She was heating up with each motion, and Lexa reveled in the feeling of her wife’s impossibly soft, sweet-hot sex. Her chest expanded, and their _olan’vora_ sang, a deep line of connectedness.

In her heart, Lexa saw Clarke’s every movement. Felt every sweep of pleasure, every murmur of affirmation in stereo with her own. Clarke clung to her, rocking into Lexa’s every thrust, drowning in the flood of emotions between them.

Love, and trust. Sex and pleasure. Affection and humor.

Every positive emotion Lexa had ever felt with Clarke shimmered in multi-faceted rivers of serene pleasure. Clarke’s mind washed of any thought, Lexa’s cock filling her so well with friction and pleasurable bliss. It was more than sex. It was love incarnate – desire and fulfillment in a continuous stream.

Lexa felt her orgasm start to build in the base of her stomach, clenching Clarke’s cunt as it resounded. Clarke breathed in staggers of oxygen, her sex stirred deeply and choking in blissful rushes of Lexa’s thrusts. The first spasms of her impending orgasm racked her, and Lexa’s movements sped up slightly.

Clarke sucked in a harsh breath, her breasts thrusting into the air with the intake, and Lexa groaned at the sight. Her wife felt every ounce of Lexa’s appreciation, and the rebound of sparkling affirmation exploded in her mind. Clarke remembered enough to throw a hand over her mouth, her wife’s name on her lips. Clarke’s orgasm tightened in an unexpected launch of satisfaction, and her sex convulsed, clamping Lexa’s cock inside her in searing waves of wet heat.

Feeling the sonic boom of Clarke’s orgasm flood her senses, Lexa drove deeply inside her wife, a harshed sound of ecstasy breaking through in a low groan. Bucking her hips, Lexa felt Clarke come in drowning currents of rolling pleasure, and her own orgasm chased each one. Clarke felt Lexa come inside her, perpetuating the longevity of every crest of pleasure racking her body.

Soon, Clarke’s orgasm slowed, Lexa immediately feeling the gentle relief sweep through them. Clarke breathed in deep pants, one hand stroking over Lexa spine in languid passes, neck to hips, and Lexa curled a shivering last shot of come inside her wife. Clarke felt the hot essence inside her, and a brief flicker of interested concern licked at her mind.

“Something wrong?” Lexa rusked, her eyes clear and satisfied. Clarke smiled, pushing the thought away.

“You alright, babe?” she said instead, her free hand gliding over Lexa’s features in reverence. The Varro smiled, turning her head to kiss at Clarke’s palm.

“Yes,” she breathed, “Of course,”

Lexa pulled out gently, her cock softened slightly. Clarke gave her usual grumble, and Lexa laughed, reaching for their bed’s duvet. She pulled it over their legs and settled next to Clarke on her back.

Swiveling, Lexa smiled at her wife, a forearm going up to rest on her head. She brought Clarke’s hand to her lips and kissed it, the ring nestled on her finger stark and shining.

Clarke’s heart thrummed in satisfaction, and she laced their fingers together, bringing Lexa’s hand into the air. Quiet moments passed where she merely played with Lexa’s hand, the Varro’s happiness purring deep in her chest. Lexa let Clarke spread her fingers, trace her tendons, etch patters between the spaces. Her eyes eventually closed, and Clarke breathed her amusement beside her.

Their room sang of love, and Clarke smiled at her own life, watching her hand’s natural play interacting with Lexa’s. Time slowed, stretched, and passed between them, and Clarke blinked as she noticed their room literally glowing.

“Mm,” she groaned, “Lex,”

“Hm?”

Clarke scoffed, “Erina,” she shifted to get up only to have Lexa react quicker.

“Relax,” Lexa said, sitting up, “I will. She most likely only wants to be sung to,”

“Definitely you then,” Clarke rolled on her side as Lexa went about pulling the minimal amount of clothes on, “Wouldn’t want her to hear my voice and discourage her from a singing career,”

Lexa shot her a half smile, “Clarke,” she admonished, “Self-deprecation is unbecoming,”

Clarke laughed, “Tell her that. I have a daughter. I’m the lecturer now,”

Lexa smirked, rolling her eyes. She left the room with a parting kiss to soothe their daughter back to sleep and Clarke rolled to her back with a sigh. She put a hand to her forehead and frowned, remembering something that had tickled at her earlier.

Her free hand wandered down to her stomach and she hummed, thinking. Erina had turned a year old two weeks ago, the doctors assuring she and Lexa that their daughter was in perfect health. Though most of her physiology suggested she was dominantly Varro, Erina was aging at a human pace, and it suited Clarke just fine.

The doctors had also told Clarke that her new birth control injection was in working condition. No need for replacement for another six months. Clarke closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

Only to open them as Lexa re-entered, Erina in her arms. Lexa looked slightly defeated, but Clarke’s heart broke at the sweet, red-eyed face of their daughter.

“Not wanting to sleep, then?” she sighed, sitting up and reaching out.

Lexa huffed an amused sort of sound, handing the quieted child over.

“No,” she shuffled, arranging Clarke’s pillows to prop her self up and sit behind her wife, “Did she not eat?”

Clarke settled backwards, letting Erina squirm herself into comfort in her arms.

“Kind of,” she wrinkled her nose while she smiled at their baby, Lexa’s warmth settling and lovely behind her, “She mostly was watching you,”

Lexa’s hand stroked Erina’s soft downy hair, fine blonde and bedraggled.

“Me?”

“Mm,” Clarke affirmed, adjusting her chest so Erina could rest how she pleased, “You were stretching,” Clarke turned her baby’s head, Erina having no trouble latching. Immediately, Clarke’s eyes filled with tears, and Lexa turned her face so she could smile.

Clarke jerked her head childishly out of Lexa’s hand, pouting.

“I will never get tired of that,” Lexa said, her eyes twinkling in affection. Clarke blinked rapidly, looking up to keep from letting her tears spill.

“It got old a while ago,”

“She is nearly ready to eat food for every meal,” Lexa soothed, kissing Clarke’s head, “Let me enjoy these last few days,”

Clarke huffed a laugh, “Right, you can enjoy it when you’re the one being milked like a dairy cow,”

Lexa only laughed, stroking her daughter’s head and nosing into Clarke’s hair.

 

* * *

 

Clarke rarely wakes up before her wife. But when she does, it’s an odd experience. Not because she’s unsettled without Lexa, but because it’s unusual to see a day that Lexa hasn’t touched yet. A day without Lexa’s mark was a foreign experience.

She slipped out of bed and to their kitchen on quiet feet, light feebly yawning awake through the windows. It was still, undisturbed, and silent. Like a book covered in dust, waiting for someone to open it. Clarke breathed in the newness of uncharted time, and set about making coffee.

An hour passed, and Clarke took another sip of coffee, her eye critical over a sketch of Erina from memory. Something odd struck her, and she realized it was because she had unconsciously left spaces around her daughter’s middle where Lexa’s hand would wrap.

The same hand touched her shoulder, and Clarke felt Lexa’s waking heart chime in gentle glow.

“Good morning,” Lexa murmured into Clarke’s ear, bending and kissing her wife’s cheek.

“Hi,” Clarke greeted with a smile. She glanced at the clock, “You slept,”

Lexa hummed and leaned further to wrap her arms around Clarke’s neck.

“Yes,” she said simply.

Clarke let herself relax into the hold. Her chest ached and soothed as she closed her eyes and felt. Through their bond, Clarke sensed Lexa like a river. If she wanted, she could draw closer to that stream. If she focused, quieted her mind, Clarke could dip her foot into it, step in entirely. In rare moments, she could wade in and let Lexa surround her, lapping up around her waist, her breasts, swirling in warm chills up her neck.

It was only during sex that Clarke could find complete submersion.

But for now, Clarke contented herself with running her fingers through the waters of Lexa’s soul. Her wife was well rested and relaxed, happy. She was wondering after Erina, and she needed coffee. Clarke smiled ruefully as she felt her spine rattle with every breath Lexa took. She was tight like an elastic band, wanting to stretch and bend, twist and compress. Clarke turned her head into Lexa’s and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“I’ve got the LO, you go run,”

Lexa gave an interested hum, and Clarke’s chest dyed in hopeful uncertainty. She laughed, patting one of Lexa’s forearms around her.

“Yeah, go. We’re gonna have breakfast before we drop her at Mom’s and I go to Raven’s, so run fast,”

Lexa made a breath of amusement before pulling away, “I believe running fast is the purpose of the exercise,”

Clarke tipped her head backwards to follow Lexa, “That can’t be proven, you know, and you can’t make me,” she called.

“It is physical exercise, not a sight seeing tour,” Lexa pointed from the hallway.

Clarke laughed, twisting, “Again, you can’t make me suffer with you. You’re a Federation Officer. I have rights,”

Lexa broke into a laugh in tandem with a yellow, pulsing glow issuing from the edges of their apartment. Clarke sighed and stood with a stretch. Lexa lifted a brow.

“Clarke, I can-,”

“No, no,” Clarke waved her wife off, passing her in the hall, “I’ve got her. We’re gonna eat and watch Harold the Happy Halanan,” Clarke shot Lexa a droll look, “Again,”

Lexa smiled fully, humming the opening tune to the children’s show under her breath as she got ready. She fixed her hair just slightly and passed by the kitchen before she left, Clarke sitting in front of their daughter in the elevated eating seat Clarke called a ‘booster chair’.

Lexa circled her wife and sent her daughter a happy look, Erina’s eyes lighting up at the sight of her. Ecstatic gurgles and high pitches of excitement erupted from the baby’s mouth, and Lexa’s heart melted.

“Good morning, E’katerina,” Lexa cooed, leaning to let Erina grasp her forefingers in her clumsy hands, “Hello,”

Erina laughed as Lexa danced her hands around, jumping as best as her body allowed in the chair. Clarke smiled at her wife, leaning backwards to allow the interaction in comfort.

“I did not disappear in the night, did I?” Lexa continued in subdued excitement, “No I did not. Or Mama would not be smiling right now, would she?”

Lexa turned playful eyes to her wife, and Clarke smiled easily, “No. Mama would not be happy. Now, will Mommy please go run so Mama can shower later?”

Lexa blinked in a focusing-type manner and she smiled guiltily.

“Pardon,” she said.

“Did Anya give you a time?” Clarke asked. Lexa nodded.

“1600,” she replied, “Will your mother be able to watch her until then?”

Clarke hummed, “Probably,” she said, settling, “You know Mom loves to spoil her,”

Lexa wrinkled her nose, and Clarke laughed, “She promised she wouldn’t do the thing,” she reassured. Lexa sighed and nodded.

After Erina had been born, Lexa had taken entire months to resist the urge to immediately sweep their daughter away from people who spoke to Erina in the “strange, humiliating, human dialect” that was baby talk.

Lexa’s eyes went back to Erina, and she said a swift goodbye. Two kisses later, and she was gone. Clarke rolled her eyes and smiled at her wife’s absence, watching as Erina refocused on her tray. Her baby’s intelligent green eyes glittered with happy concentration, grasping each piece of scrambled egg and directing it to her mouth. She ate only the small golden flecks before moving on to the soft-cooked peas, observing order.

Clarke tucked a smile. She was very much her mother’s daughter.

 

* * *

 

“And you’re sure you’re… you know,” Octavia made a roundabout gesture toward Clarke’s lower half. She pulled a face, but Clarke laughed anyway. Octavia smiled, leaning back into the couch next to her friend.

“No,” Clarke shrugged, “I’m really not,”

Octavia lifted a brow glancing toward Raven, whose nose wrinkled.

“Oh no,” she scoffed, “I am not going to be your pregnancy test. Hell no,” her eyes went wide with incredulousness, black irises shifting between Octavia’s grin and Clarke’s bitten lip.

“If I go anywhere on base, Lexa will know about it,” Clarke pled.

“Are you serious?” Raven groaned.

Octavia gave a mighty burst of laughter, slapping the Betazoid’s leg, “Prepare to be a glorified urinalysis, babe,”

“You owe me,” Raven lazed, sighing. Octavia tucked her lips and held her hands intently, watching Clarke and Raven excitedly. Clarke could only breathe, her heart thumping.

Raven straightened, closing her eyes. She let herself expand her mind, feeling Octavia’s thrilled hope, joy and sexual arousal simmering just under the surface. Humans always appeared in color to her – a delightful sensation, in her opinion.

Octavia had always appeared as a sparkling burgundy to her, a bright flash of powerful courage and hunger. Past Octavia was Clarke. Since being bonded to Lexa, Clarke’s colors had changed. She used to be an unrestrained white-blue, untainted loyalty and faith in others. Now, Clarke showed in gentle tinges of steel blue. Still the brightest of hopeful intelligence, but with a steadiness.

Focusing, Raven dialed in to Clarke’s essence, the tendril of thought drifting until her mind touched something luminescent and without color. Her eyes opened, and Clarke looked nearly fearful.

“Well?” Octavia griped, bouncing her leg.

Raven cocked an eyebrow, fixing Clarke with a black sort of humor, “Well, it looks like we’ll get to throw you a proper baby shower this time,”

Clarke’s breath stilled in her chest.

“Holy shit,” Octavia whispered, “Holy shit!” she cried, ecstatic, looking to Raven and back.

Clarke sat back in her seat and breathed. Pregnant. Pregnant with her second child. Another perfect little baby, just like Erina; to hold and to love, to raise and lose sleep over. Another pint-sized creature to love alongside Lexa.

“Clarke?” Raven worried, her friend swirling light purple. Clarke blinked, her two friends watching her with concern. Octavia was frowning in concern.

“We are happy about this, right?” she stressed.

Clarke laughed, the sound a choked sob. She wiped her misting eyes and nodded frantically, “Yes,” she reassured hurriedly, “God- of course, yes!”

Her friends jumped excitedly, and took up either side of Clarke, hugging her ecstatically. Raven smoothed her back while Octavia kissed her head. Clarke clung to Raven’s arm around her front and laughed, tilting her head back to keep from crying.

“Oh my God,” she laughed tiredly, “I can’t believe this,”

Her friends detached from her but didn’t move away, smiles on their faces.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Octavia asked Raven excitedly.

Raven scoffed, “I’m not an actual tricorder, you know. I just know there’s definitely a brand new life form in our resident Baby Mama,”

Octavia laughed again, looking pleased with her friend’s reproductive capabilities, “When are you telling Commander Mommy?”

Clarke breathed deeply, her heart still beating rapidly. She bit her lip and exhaled, “I don’t know,” she said, “Lexa just got approached to go on mission. She’s probably going to try and take me with her,”

Raven tilted her head, “I thought she was done with all the fun parts of the job? Donated her life to desk duty and teaching?”

Octavia guffawed, and Clarke rolled her eyes.

“She tells me she’s fine at the Academy,”

Raven lifts an eyebrow, “She tells you?”

Octavia grins, “Not a fan of sharpening the young minds of every snot nosed cadet to think they’re the next Vice Admiral Janeway?”

Clarke smiles, her hand drifting to lie on her stomach. Her heart fluttered, and she breathed deeply, her friends quiet. She glanced between the two of them.

“I know she wants more,” she shrugged, “She’s built for it. But she’ll always put Erina first, we all know that,”

Octavia huffed an irritated humor.

“God, do we ever. You remember the time she stood and held Little One for four straight hours because she,” Octavia straightened and put on a deadpan expression, her voice flat and stunted, “Did not like to entertain the bacterial ecosystem of that floor,”

Raven laughed outright while Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Hey, relax,” Raven said, “We all know Lexa’s some kind of super-mom,”

Clarke smiled, “It’s actually crazy how in synch she and Erina are,” her eyes went soft, Octavia and Raven exchanging tolerantly amused expressions, “You guys have figured out never to let Erina see Lex eat, right?”

Raven cocked an eyebrow, “What?”

Clarke nodded.

“Yep. We can’t figure out why, but every single time, like a sonic clock, if Erina can see Lexa eat – she poops,”

Octavia exploded in laughter, Raven doing a slightly better job.

“What was that?”

Clarke smiled, one hand stroking her stomach absently.

“It’s true,” she said easily, “And Lexa’s got this weird sixth sense for when Erina’s about to fall over,”

Raven smiled with genuine mirth. She’d never seen Clarke as happy as when she talked about Lexa and Erina. Octavia said something, and Clarke’s ease seeped out in lazy love.

“Once, Lexa was asleep on the floor, and I had turned to get something Erina had thrown. I guess she’d stood up on the couch and started to fall over because the next thing I know, Lexa woke up from a dead sleep, launched across the floor, and caught her in one hand,”

“You’re kidding,” Raven drawled, her heart light. Clarke only smiled mischievously.

“That’s all well and good,” Octavia interrupted, “But how’s the sex? Obviously, it happens every once in a while,” she pointed at Clarke’s stomach in accusation, and Raven laughed.

Clarke grinned, “Tired of talking about all the unimportant stuff, O?”

A shrug and a smile, “Family, commitment, blech,”

“You’re not with Lincoln anymore?” Raven asked. Octavia shot a slow smile to her friend.

“Sometimes I am,” she said slyly. Her expression went irritated, turning back to Clarke, “Stop deflecting! Is married sex lame or what?”

Raven expelled a laugh at Clarke’s smirked silence, and Octavia rolled her eyes, “Damn it. I knew I should have made a move as soon as we set foot on Ambassador,”

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, Anya’s tall frame folded into the uncomfortable confines of her desk, she eyed her two fellows, friends, and only hopes.

“Anya,” Lexa tensed, her spine rigid as steel, “Tell us why we would even consider this,”

Clarke let a hand rest on Lexa’s thigh, and the Varro moved to sit evenly keeled in her chair. Her head lifted, but she didn’t break eye contact with her ex-Captain. Anya nodded, seeing Clarke’s iron gaze.

In short movements, she pressed a panel on her desk, a bulleted list appearing in hologram between them.

“These are the offered compensation points Starfleet has requested for you,” Anya said, “They have all been approved by the Federation, and await granting them upon completion of the mission,”

She nodded at the list, “In summary, it is a plot of land in Canada, a job teaching the theoretical astrophysics course at Starfleet Academy for Clarke, and an open door invitation for Lexa to peruse the Federation Cabinet Aide positions,”

Clarke cast a critical eye over the wordy document, her intelligence always too sharp for glittering letters and promises.

“These are way too specific for just Starfleet to request them,” she narrowed her eyes, “Did you do this?”

Anya didn’t move, “I had a hand,”

Clarke breathed, glancing to her wife. Lexa’s eyes were scanning the document swiftly, ever the legislator.

“And you really don’t think Erina’s at risk?” Clarke stressed, her gaze locked on her wife’s most intimate friend. The woman who had been the first person to see their child, bless her, press a kiss to their baby’s forehead. Anya had refused to hold Erina, worried she would hurt her in any way.

That same woman cast a serious look into Clarke’s eyes, her Ruji markings making the grey shiver in her irises as she spoke.

“I do not,”

Clarke exhaled and nodded. She looked to Lexa, who tore her gaze away from the end of the document.

“This states that in the event of mission failure, we are to be compensated in the same manner as mission success,” Lexa said succinctly, “But it does not define mission failure,”

Anya nodded.

“It doesn’t,”

Lexa cocked her head, “I thought the mission was to impressed the Varro with the evidence that Varro and humans can cohabitate, reproduce, and live harmoniously?”

Clarke cut in, watching Anya critically, “It is,” she said carefully, “But only as a primary objective. There are secondary objectives, aren’t there?”

Anya nodded once more.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “There are,”

Lexa exchanged a look with Clarke, inhaling. A few beats of silence, hesitation and weighed resolution in the play of their expressions, and Clarke looked away. She inclined her head to the Captain.

“Alright,” she breathed, “We’re in,”

“With an additional request,”

Clarke lifted a brow, and Anya frowned.

“What?”

Lexa’s head tipped, challenging, “We want to bring someone to assist us with Erina,”

Anya’s expression turned interested, “You can’t babysit for each other?”

Clarke made an amused noise while Lexa’s jaw ticked.

“It is not called ‘babysitting’ when it is your own child, Anya,”

The Ruji hummed, curious.

“I see,” her hand drifted to several panels on her desk’s interface, and she tracked through a series of files, “I don’t see why not,” was her final answer, her voice slow in thought, “Though do be sure your help’s weight doesn’t exceed 90.7 kilograms,”

Clarke wanted to roll her eyes, but Lexa only nodded. Anya pressed another button, and both of their communicators chirped with a data file. Lexa pulled it up on her PADD while Anya spoke.

“Now that you have accepted this mission, you both are cleared to peruse the logistical details, though they all are classified documents,”

“Wow, thanks,” Clarke drolled, Lexa’s eyes sliding to her in tickled reprimand. Anya only lifted a brow, a smirk teasing at the edge of her lips. Her expression cleared and nodded at the newly-revealed holographic in Lexa’s hand.

“The USS Friendly will depart to Federation-controlled space in the Beta Quadrant in two days’ time at 1300 from Spacedock. Return will ensue 10 days later,”

Clarke expelled a breath, nearly amused, “They named a Defiant-class starship the USS _Friendly_? Now they’re just being coy,”

Lexa smothered a grin, Anya’s eyes noting the joke. Clarke privately wished Raven were here. Or Octavia. Octavia would have loved that.

“As it is, a Defiant-class starship is an escort vehicle,” Anya pointed out, her tone brooking no argument. Clarke noticed Lexa’s jaw jump, but said nothing. Anya took their silence for acceptance and dipped her head.

“I’m sure you have details to go over and arrangements to make,” she stood, and Lexa copied the movement, Clarke slower to follow. Anya settled her weight after guiding them to the door, fixing a mild, proud set to her lips, “Thank you for your help,”

Clarke’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, Lexa’s lowering.

“Sure,” Clarke finally said. She nodded to Anya, Lexa touching her friend on the shoulder on her way out. The door closed behind them, and Lexa cast a quiet glance around Starfleet Headquarters.

Heavy silence echoed through the atriums, and Clarke fiddled her ring in absent thought. She didn’t exactly have questions yet. Only a low sense of private peace before the inevitable crescendo toward potential chaos.

“Erina?” Lexa’s low tones broke through the quiet of Clarke’s mind, and she swiveled her head to notice Lexa’s patient gaze locked onto her. Clarke breathed and nodded.

“Yeah,” Clarke sighed. She paused, a certain thought wringing her lips into a smile. Lexa lifted a brow in subtle askance, and Clarke stepped away from her wife, nearly delighting in victory.

“But you have to tell my mother you’re taking her granddaughter on a mission,”

Lexa posture went rigid. She stilted after Clarke, her jaw working. She huffed, taking the lead on their way back to the hovercar lot.

“You are unkind,”

Clarke laughed, her chest lifting from some pressure at the ease Lexa handled herself with. She slid her eyes up and over her wife in uniform as they walked. While Clarke had rare occasion to don hers, Lexa wore it like a second skin.

“I’m unkind?” Clarke asked coolly in response, “You think so?”

Lexa nearly rolled her eyes, affection in every contour of her face, “Yes. You also flirted with Anya’s cadet in the lobby,”

Clarke’s laugh was indignant and offended, “Did you hear what we talked about?”

“No,” Lexa hedged coolly.

Clarke smirked at her, “Shame. If you had, you’d have heard it wasn’t my fault. He was staring at my wife’s ass,” she smoothed her hair, “I was just complementing his tastes,”

Lexa went slack-jawed, recovering immediately. An enormous glare of promised retribution, and Clarke felt her heart flutter in unfettered love as Lexa moved, kissing her on the temple mid-stride.

 

* * *

 

The shuttlecraft taking them off world to Spaceport had been smooth. Lexa had once told Clarke with an adorably confused expression that the cultures she had studied with ‘religion’ were childish, desperate peoples.

But an easy start was something she’d take as a good omen, and she thanked God for it. Lexa had watched Erina with precision focus through the ride, though their baby had simply stared, fussed a small amount, and fallen asleep.

Their arrival to Spaceport was just as uncomplicated, Erina waking from her position strapped to Clarke’s chest and reaching around, mouthing nonsensically. Clarke soothed her where necessary, Lexa nearly an extra inch taller with pride.

Their drydock was at the very top of Spaceport, Lexa’s posture and rank enough to intimidate others from joining them in a turbolift.

“So, remind me,” Clarke cut, “How much contact have you had with your people since you left the generational ship?”

“Very little,” Lexa said, reaching to stroke along Erina’s spine, the baby grinning and burying her face in Clarke’s neck to laugh. The sound made them both smile reflexively, Lexa’s expression rolling dark, “They are quite unpleasant to those who separated. ‘Defectors’ they called us at first,”

Clarke rolled her eyes, rocking Erina from side to side, “Great. And the ominous ‘they’ being…”

“A High Council,” Lexa said, pacing her irritation, “Who operate within a bureaucracy that even the Federation would find unnecessary,”

Clarke lifted an eyebrow and removed her shirt from Erina’s mouth.

“You’re kidding,” she said, “Starfleet made us fill out our marriage certificate in triplicate,”

Lexa nodded steelingly, handing Clarke a teething toy, “Varro live for a very long time. We have found the patience to be needlessly intricate. The goal being to ward off any unwelcome changes,”

Clarke breathed in a readying fashion.

“Right,” she said bracingly, “So all we have to do is show up, show Erina off, answer a few questions, you’ll play political shakedown, and we’re done, right?,”

Lexa’s jaw flexed, her eyes flickering between the turbolift’s holoscreen and Erina’s wide eyes, “In theory, yes. With the presence of a larger envoy of Varro, I can only assume the entire High Council is here,”

Clarke frowned, “Why would the entire High Council be here? Just to stare at a baby?”

Lexa’s eyes went dark, “That,” she grit, “is a good question,”

Clarke lifted an eyebrow, and her expression pitched. She narrowed her eyes.

“Lexa,” she bit her lip, Erina’s weight heavy on her chest, “You know I trust Anya with our lives,” Lexa fixed her attention on her wife, and Clarke frowned, “I can’t shake the thought that I’d feel better if I knew what this was all about,”

“Clarke,” Lexa’s eyes bore into Clarke’s own, “It is not too late,”

For half a moment, Clarke imagined it. Walking out. Letting the opportunity go. Have Lexa go back to teaching and be a stay at home mom in their apartment. But the pieces didn’t fit together, and something – someone- in her stomach fluttered.

She shook her head.

“We’re overreacting,” Clarke resolved, her eyes switching between Lexa’s, “New parent jitters, right?”

Lexa’s viridian eyes went conflicted, reading her own emotions carefully. She exhaled slowly, her gaze settling on Erina’s wide-eyed observance, “Yes,” she said slowly, “I suppose so,”

Clarke nodded, “We can do this,” she played with Erina’s dangling feet at her front, “You just gotta be cute and not spit up on anyone important, hm, Pumpkin Face? Can you do that for Mommy?”

Lexa’s posture softened considerably, and she smiled just in time for the turbolift to slow, the doors opening.

“As long as Mama doesn’t eat the whole trip,” Clarke hummed, following Lexa out into the port’s top atrium. Through a giant glass window, Clarke could see their ship, a compact beast of Federation wealth and power.

Beside her, Lexa’s unimpressed huff made her grin, “I do not understand,” she muttered, triple checking their mission orders and process forms as they walked, “Who sends a warship as a white flag?”

Clarke didn’t hide her smile, “It’s an _escort,_ Lex,” she mocked, “An escort,”

Lexa laughed dryly, “An escort with four phaser cannons, six quantum torpedo launchers, and capable of reaching warp 9.5? Yes,” she raked, “a fine broker of peace,”

Clarke adjusted one of the straps around her chest, “I guess I can wrap my head around it,” she shrugged, “Starfleet hasn’t been able to show them off since the Dominion War. It’s a nice impression. Even I like to dressed up for you every once in a date night,”

Lexa turned her head just enough to catch Clarke’s wink, and she forgot herself enough to laugh. Clarke grinned, accomplished.

“Besides,” she noted, “It’s been converted to accommodate diplomacy in the interior. Less lab, more luxury,”

“Mm,” Lexa grunted, “I saw that,”

“Make you feel any better?”

Lexa cast a skeptical eye from the gate doors to her daughter and back to Clarke. A façade of entertainment entered her eyes.

“Not particularly,”

 

* * *

 

After a clean board onto the Friendly, Lexa swept her wife and daughter toward their quarters, the ship’s schematics engraved into her mind’s eye. If only it had been easy. After a ride on the turbolift, Lexa felt her spine chill and she pushed down the urge to shiver.

It was a pull. A call, echoing into the hollow spaces of her vertebrae to synch and submit.

It was Varro.

But Al’Lexa He’da was not just any Varro. She was a Commander of Starfleet, and one of the first defectors to fight for a life outside the oppressive regime of selfish seclusion that her people impressed upon themselves. And though it had been years since she was around them, it took her a moment to remember how intoxicating conforming had been.

She turned, and saw who approached. Lexa would have cursed had she been the type. With more control, she cast a glance to a frowning Clarke.

“Whatever you do,” Lexa eased, her eyes desperately wanting to roll dismissively, “Do not bow,”

Clarke lifted an eyebrow, “Why, will I be killed by a thousand cuts or something? Branded a traitor to my own spine?”

Lexa wanted to smile, and Clarke knew if they had been alone, her wife would have laughed. As it were, the Varro could only clear her throat, work her jaw, and breathe. She glared at Clarke minutely, who only grinned. Lexa huffed and straightened, placing herself slightly in front of Clarke when she turned. Moments passed, and the footsteps materialized before them in the shape of a bald, robe-clad man with sickly pale skin.

Immediately, Clarke knew she didn’t like this guy. It was in the deadness of his eyes, the haught to his stride. Who clasped their hands as they walked?

He stopped in front of them, black eyes shifting between the two expectantly. He spared not a glance for Erina. Clarke watched Lexa’s face from the corner of her eye. Anyone who wasn’t mated to her would have missed the fact that her jaw was set too forward for a normal portrayal of serene strength. But Clarke caught it. It nearly made her want to smile.

Lexa thought he was a douche too. Still, Lexa nodded her head, this man returning the movement.

“Ti’tus Na’blud,” Lexa acknowledged, “I am Al’Lexa He’da,” she gestured next to her, “this is Clarke Al’Griffin. Our daughter, E’katerina He’da,”

Clarke smiled cordially, “Pleased to meet you,”

Silence.

After an awkward beat, Ti’tus nodded to Clarke, his smile only a feeble twitch of diplomacy. Instead, his eyes went to their baby at Clarke’s chest.

“E’katerina He’da,” Ti’tus rumbled. His small, beady eyes roved over Erina, and Clarke felt the sudden and primal urge to turn around, shielding her daughter from this man’s probing gaze.

Lexa’s presence next to her was the only thing holding her back. Not as a restraint, but as a request. Clarke’s instincts screamed at her that her wife needed solidarity. Needed reassurance that this really was the right thing they had done.

“She is very,” came the verdict in pasty, slow passes of a tongue, “… small,”

Lexa’s jaw nearly locked up, and Clarke’s fingertips brushed her wrist, a pulse of Lexa’s violent alarm and furious accusation racing up her spine. She buckled her resolve and forced the calm into her voice.

“She’s a toddler,”

Ti’tus stared at the human in bland confusion, and Lexa lifted her head formally, her free hand a fist behind her back.

“She is still a babe, almost out of her weaning phases,”

Ti’tus’s hollow tones hummed, considering.

“Very well,” his dull eyes went back to Lexa, “You will join your people for evening meal,”

It was either a question or a demand, and Clarke couldn’t tell the difference. But Lexa’s neck flexed, and she nodded politely, “Yes,”

Ti’tus only glanced once more at Erina and turned on his heel, returning the way he had come.

Clarke watched the doors slide shut after him and the _olan’vora_ disappeared as Lexa stepped away from her. Clarke breathed, Erina twisting in her arms to watch her mother move through the door at their backs.

Clarke gave a mighty sigh and followed her, the depression of her lips immediately twisting into a delighted grin at the sight in front of her. Lexa’s arms had crossed in resignation, but she only twitched an eyebrow and stilted off to the kitchenette.

“Raven!” Clarke crowed, Erina twisting and squawing her pleasure.

The Betazoid grinned, pushing off the couch her hip had been cocked against.

“Hey there, squirt,” she hummed, immediately reaching for the baby. The pressure of her child now off of her lower back, Clarke’s eyes lightened mischievously.

“I didn’t think Lexa would have picked you. I could have sworn she wanted Lincoln or Gus,”

Raven’s lips twisted.

“And you’d be right,” she bit slyly, “But I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Lincoln may or may not be confused as to why he’s being sent to a senior engineer’s Advanced Refresher Course at the Academy right now,”

Clarke arched her brow, impressed, “You pawned off your career ARC to come babysit my daughter?”

Raven shot her a look, her hand occupied with Erina’s own before resuming her entertainment.

“I just had a feeling I was needed,” she mused, grinning at Erina’s golden bright shine of happiness. In truth, Lexa had approached the Betazoid on her way to that very career class, the system hack’s code already written. Her lips twitched at the memory.

“Doesn’t matter,” Raven waved, smiling at the baby in her arms, “I get a paid vacation with the little deity,” here, she began to coo at the child in a smooth, roiling language as Clarke watched, warmed.

They went about moving into their quarters. A large front parlor room with two adjoined bedrooms. Erina’s crib went in the main room. After a time, Clarke and Lexa were summoned to dinner in person by a small Varro woman, who bowed to Lexa. Clarke watched as her wife merely nodded in return. She’d have to ask about that.

Led through the corridors, they found themselves in a dining room. Seated on the floor, Clarke took her place next to Lexa as the room slowly filled with the 10 or so other Varro who introduced themselves in surprising amiable friendliness. A wash of foreign names rushed past Clarke’s ears, but she took note of the entrance of an exceptional new dinner guest. As all of the council were of Ti’tus’ age and older, the woman who stepped through the door was remarkably young, and remarkably beautiful.

She made her way past a frowning Ti’tus to seat herself directly across from them. At the movement, Clarke’s wife noticed the beautifully-featured woman.

“Luna?” Lexa whispered, her expression caught in a rare moment of unguarded. Clarke was immediately irritated, an emotion which crackled into Lexa like a shock.

“Excuse me,” Lexa recovered, gesturing to Clarke, “This is Clarke Al’Griffin. Clarke, this is Le’una Riv’en,”

Luna, as Clarke indignantly observed, cast an interested gaze over her, attractive amber eyes flashing in thought. The woman’s contemplation flashed back to Lexa, a smile curling her lips in detached amusement.

“Lexa. You have a pre-mate,” she regarded in greeting.

A wisp of jealousy smoked through Clarke’s stomach before it was crushed under the affronted flash in Lexa’s eyes.

“No,” Lexa ground.

Luna’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and her expression twisted toward confusion, looking to Ti’tus and back to Lexa in rapid succession.

“I see,” she tried, settling back into her chair, “I apologize,” her eyes tracked to Clarke, a feathered look of discomfort marring the exotic woman’s features, “I meant no disrespect, Clarke Al’Griffin,”

Clarke smiled despite the atmosphere.

“It’s fine,” she said, Lexa’s posture softening, “We’ve been mated and married for a while now. Even I forget how long sometimes. But you can just call me Clarke, by the way,”

Luna smiled, understanding, and Clarke breathed a sigh of relief that Varro did actually have a cultural sense of humor. She hadn’t been sure if Lexa learned hers or not.

“Clarke,” Luna pronounced in obvious effort, Clarke nodding encouragingly, “I wonder,” her full lips curled, “Is ‘married’ a mate’s title among humans?”

Clarke nodded, finding traction.

“It’s an ancient custom for us. It’s the binding of two people together for the rest of their lives,”

Luna tipped her head, “Interesting. So it is the same as a Varro’s mating? You join forever?”

“More or less,” Clarke smiled, “We think that humans live shorter life spans than Varro, though Lexa and I are the first, so we’ll see,” she shrugged, “But humans get married in a ceremony. We make vows to one another, exchange rings, and celebrate,”

Luna looked deeply interested, and Lexa held her left hand up, her wedding ring a plain tritanium band.

“These rings,” she explained, “Are placed on the third finger of the left hand, indicative to most as a signifier of being mated. They are rarely removed,”

“Interesting,” Luna said, her expression openly curious.

A man to Luna’s left shifted, his eyes owlishly observant, “It is not unlike the slaver’s moon and their wrist rings, no?”

At the interruption, Clarke looked to see that most of the table’s occupants had paused their conversations to listen to the human mate. Lexa ignored them, shaking her head in response.

“I find the difference subtle, and powerful,” her mouth flickered, “A common human occurrence,” Clarke smiled at the alien-phrased compliment, marking it for later conversation. Lexa admired her own ring momentarily before continuing, “I do not have to wear it. No married human does. It is an election to wear,”

Lexa lowered her hand to pick up Clarke’s, her sasheer-jeweled ring sparkling on the tabletop, their shared heart glittering in a million facets brighter.

“It is a decision,” Lexa said coolly, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s, “An affirmation that I choose to dedicate this day to my mate, and her to me. To wear a ring is a choice. I choose Clarke. I choose her each day,”

Lexa turned her gaze away from Clarke, looking back to Luna.

“Is that a sufficient answer?”

The dark-skinned woman’s smile was unconsciously enchanted, and at the attention seemed to come to her senses. The twist of her lips wiped towards neutral and she glanced once more to Ti’tus.

“Yes,” she smoothed, smiling gently once more, “Quite enlightening, Lexa. Thank you,”

With that, Lexa nodded, and Clarke’s heart flamed with heated love. The glow filtered into Lexa, and she not so subtly dropped Clarke’s hand as the woman’s warmth suffused with a tinge of lust. Lexa cleared her throat and answered another question a tablemate had posed to her.

Clarke smiled at her water glass. The gathering was interrupted by the serving of dinner, and the table became pre-occupied for the rest of the evening.

 

* * *

 

 

In their quarters, Lexa took Erina from Raven’s arms the moment she stepped in, and Clarke wrapped herself around them both. She kissed her daughter on the forehead and went with Raven to make tea.

“How’d it go?” the Betazoid hummed as she watched Clarke move.

Clarke breathed, pursing her lips.

“They’re very civilized. And Lexa’s probably one of the more stoic of them,”

Raven’s jaw dropped dramatically, “You’re fucking kidding me,”

Clarke’s squashed a laugh, glancing to her wife.

“I’m serious,” she said, “They’re really interested in Lexa and I. Asked a lot about human stuff,”

Raven frowned, “Human stuff? Why the sudden need to look at culture? Aren’t they supposed to be the superior race of the galaxy’s assholes?”

Clarke didn’t try to hide her laugh, and Raven grinned. The human tipped her head in agreement, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’m trying not to read too much into it. It’s 10 days, then we’re done,”

Raven watched her with an eyebrow raised, “And you think you’ll be satisfied with that? That Lexa will be satisfied with that?”

Clarke heaved a deep sigh, watching her wife smile at Erina, cooing about ‘spatial disorientation’ as she danced in exaggerated rocks and spins around the parlor room.

“Not a chance in hell,”

Raven took her turn to laugh.

 

* * *

 

Under the cover of 2100, Lexa sat on the edge of their bed, the lights dimmed. As it was, Clarke was stalking toward her with crossed arms and a smirk on her face.

“So,” Clarke sat with a flourish and crossed her legs, propping a cheeky smile on her fist, “Luna,”

Lexa shifted uncomfortably under Clarke’s gaze.

“I have never stated that you were my first potential mate,”

Clarke didn’t flinch, her unmoving posture voice enough, “Yeah, but you never told me about her. Why?”

“Why does it matter?” Lexa wrinkled her nose.

This, apparently, was the exact wrong thing to say, as Clarke’s eyes went dangerously narrow.

Lexa breathed deeply, glancing around the bedroom and exhaling with a near-rumbled groan.

“Clarke,” she cut, exasperated, “You are the mother of my child. What have I done to earn such immoral suspicions?”

Clarke couldn’t help but crack a smile. Her posture broke and she shifted, standing up and starting an aimless pace of the room.

“Right, fine,” she rolled her eyes, “But one thing’s for sure. It’s not an accident that she’s here,”

Lexa seemed to sober slightly, her expression tight and offended, “You are right,” she wrinkled her nose, “They are testing our bond. Which is cause for concern to a higher degree than it seems,”

Clarke tipped her head, asking.

Lexa gave a short breath, “The generational ship relied on compliance and cohesion to an enormous degree. No conflict, no disagreement, no dispute. Such quarrels would last for hundreds of years and corrupt the serenity necessary to keep life peaceful amongst us,” she grit her jaw, “Trying to aggravate me into taking what they might consider a truer mate is incredibly underhanded and dangerous,”

“Whoa. Wait. Lex, hold on. What kind of dangerous?”

Lexa fixed her wife with a conflicted look. Clarke gazed steadily back, ever a wall of resolute challenge. Lexa inclined her head fixedly.

“Infidelity is punishable by death among the Varro,” she graveled, annoyed, “Le’una has determined this alliance worth more than her own life,”

Clarke’s eyes went round, her lips parting.

“Oh,” she said, softly. Lexa’s teeth ground as she breathed deeply, Clarke absently noticing the habit and murmuring, “Stop that,”

Lexa’s head reared and she sighed, working her jaw in relief. She leveled herself and sneered, “I just do not know what could be so important,”

Clarke set her lips, crossing her arms in thought.

“You said that Anya hinted that they had something the Federation wanted, right?”

Lexa cocked her head, “Yes,” she said, “Though I specifically asked if it was in any way dangerous,”

Clarke suppressed a smile. Always so careful. Instead, she tapped her fingers against her arm, frowning.

“I know, babe,” Clarke eased, still thinking, “So if it’s not dangerous, why would the Federation care?”

“Perhaps,” Lexa said slowly, “It is not dangerous in a… traditional sense,”

Clarke lit, catching on. She eyed Lexa’s glittering expression in careful interest.

“So it’s a power of some kind?”

Lexa nodded, brow furrowed, “Economic or otherwise,”

“Do the Varro have the technology to intimidate?”

Lexa shook her head, “We are a people of close-mindedness. We will never be the first to discover anything with this ideology. Innovation requires collaboration,”

“So,” Clarke mused, “If they didn’t build it. Did they steal it?”

Lexa paused, lifting a brow, “You really do not like us, do you?”

Clarke’s smile curled ironically, “It’s not you, Lex. Just everyone like you,”

The Varro gave a cough of laughter while Clarke winked subtly.

“I’m serious, though,” Clarke circled back, “Do you think they’d steal something to leverage the Federation?”

“Implying the Varro wanted Federation assistance in the first place,” Lexa pointed out.

Clarke bit at her lip, “If they didn’t want it, then why would they entertain this mission in the first palace?”

“They would not,” Lexa said, her eyebrows knit in suspicion, “I do not understand. What would be important enough to offer lives to test Federation bonds, while simultaneously asking for aide?”

“Not to mention asking for that help with some kind of knife at our throat?”

Lexa exchanged heavy looks with Clarke, and the Varro finally broke, her posture going rigid.

“Whatever it might be, the atmosphere is indicative of something much more powerful at works,”

Clarke sighed, relaxing. She checked her communicator’s baby monitor.

“Well, Anya did say that was what we were stepping in to, right? Need to know basis of information,”

Lexa grunted, acknowledging. Clarke lifted an eyebrow but let her wife think. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and collected herself.

“Okay,” she said, “I’m going to get Erina up and fed so she’ll sleep through the night. What are you doing?”

Lexa took a practiced breath and lifted her head. Clarke could nearly feel her wife pull her armor around herself.

“I,” Lexa braced, ”am going to see Le’una,”

Clarke cast a critical look over the proud, protective stance Lexa had taken. The atmosphere settled between them in a chilled blanket grown warmer. Clarke nodded, looking away.

“Be careful,”

Lexa softened immediately. She relaxed, her expression melting in uxorious affection. Her lips gave a tenuous twist of thanks, and she nodded slightly.

“Of course,” she said.

Clarke nodded in understanding, her message conveyed. She would never deny Lexa’s caring and defensive nature, but she expected Lexa to know the limits motherhood required of her. Namely, that she extends the protection she held over Clarke and their daughter over herself as well.

Their family was not theirs without her.

 

* * *

 

The days passed in surprisingly easy scheduling. There were meal times, social requests and meetings between all of the council, with separate one-on-one meetings between one or both of Lexa and Clarke with each member. They were told Erina would be seen by their medical doctors on the seventh day, the meetings resuming featuring the child after the fact.

Luna had been less helpful than Lexa had hoped. That was, until she met Erina. The exotic-looking Varro woman had been enchanted with the girl, and Clarke’s reaction was a surprising amount of pride. Lexa had raised an eyebrow at the chest-hollowing satisfaction she felt as she held Clarke’s hand and watched Luna in their quarters play with their daughter.

Clarke had only smirked in a shadow of superiority, and let a leak of hot-blooded passion and lust strike like lightning through their bond. Lexa’s knees nearly buckled.

But she understood.

“You are being petty,” she murmured to her wife in amusement, “It is unbecoming of your stature,”

Clarke’s smirk was unaffected.

“We mated and fucked to make Erina,” she aired, “And Luna knows it,”

Lexa’s posture set strictly at her wording, but she cleared a laugh free from her throat and hummed.

After that, Luna seemed to be more serene in her interactions with Lexa, more genuinely warm to Clarke. It was this affability which led Lexa to cleaner relations with her old friend.

 

* * *

 

“Clarke,”

“Lex?” Clarke looked up from her lotion routine after a sonic shower. Lexa had been at a pre-dinner drink with Luna, and stormed through the door. Instantly, Clarke was on alert, and she stood as her wife paced.

“Luna has said that the generational ship is irreparably failing,” Lexa flexed her jaw and stared at a point on the floor, “The Varro people are in danger of suffering from oxygen deprivation, food deficiencies, and hydration filter issues. The bio-core of the ship is going to collapse,” her tone pitched soft and she stopped her mad shuffle, “They are all going to die,”

Clarke’s expression ground hard, “And people do crazy things when they’re desperate, Lex,”

Lexa’s emerald eyes found hers, a clarity passing through her like a river. Clarke had always made her feel like an ocean at peace.

“I believe they have found a way to create a weapon of some kind. They are in need of leverage,”

Clarke nodded, thinking, “They need help, but they’d rather die out than say it straightforwardly?”

“Yes,” Lexa hummed, frowning, “Varro do not yield assistance unearned easily. And our presence here is telling of just how serious they are about inhabiting Earth,”

“So that’s why they want to know about Erina,” Clarke murmured, her hackles rising. Lexa glanced at her wife and slipped around her in immediate soothing.

“Clarke,” she rusked, “You are correct,” her arms found Clarke’s waist, and she felt Clarke step entirely into the embrace, “But Erina is in no danger. The Varro as a people value infant life above all else, and the by laws of my culture are old,”

Clarke leaned back to observe Lexa’s face in interest when she heard a note of humor gone sour. She lifted an eyebrow.

“Old,” Lexa elaborate, “Old justice, much like how Earth’s ancient laws might have been called,”

Clarke tipped her head and wound her arms around Lexa’s neck, “So, what? You mean half your population was allowed to be represented as voluntary legal property?”

Lexa’s chuckle reverberated into Clarke, who only smiled all the fuller.

“You must forgive my people’s elected ignorance, Starbright,” the Varro eased, “Marriage would seem a foreign affect. It was odd to me at first, too,”

Clarke rolled her eyes, remembering many exasperating conversations with a heartfeltedly confused Lexa.

“If we are not practitioners of this religion, why would we honor its customs?” she had frowned.

Now, Lexa only smiled as Clarke’s consciousness went soft in memory. She kissed her wife on the temple gently.

“No,” she eased, “My people value children to such a degree that it is written into our laws as the only excusable motive for homicide,”

Clarke started, looking between Lexa’s calm viridian eyes in alarm.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“I am not,”

A moment of consideration before Clarke relaxed some, “That shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does. Is that wrong?”

Lexa hummed a minute laugh.

“Not at all, my Starbright. While the legalism is bureaucratic, the morality is ambiguous, and the cause unpleasant, I can only call it right,” she cocked an eyebrow, “But then again, I may be biased,”

Clarke grinned at her wife, who smiled gently down at her.

“No, my Clarke,” Lexa eased, “I would only call you a good mother,”

Clarke’s grin settled, her heart easing and aching. She simply absorbed the stillness in Lexa’s aura of freshly-driven devotion. Clarke tipped her head, and Lexa met her nearly in tandem to kiss gently.

Separating a millimeter, Clarke whispered against Lexa’s lips, “You know, if we weren’t on a ship full of murder-justifying xenophobes, the things I’d do to you,”

Lexa smiled, her rarely-seen teeth clicking softly against Clarke’s.

“We will be on this ship for 5 more days,”

Clarke breathed a laugh, her eyes flashing mischievous.

“Tell me that’s not why you wanted Raven,”

“I had considered it an unweighted benefit,”

Clarke’s eyes went deeper, and Lexa couldn’t help the shift of excitement that filtered through her, gravitating toward her groin.

“Think Raven’ll mind watching her for a little longer?”

Lexa looked up and checked the time, knowing Raven might ask them for permission to put their daughter to bed. Her expression pulled in inconvenience.

“It is 1700,” she hedged wearily.

Clarke groaned, dashing her head against Lexa’s chest.

“Right,” she mourned, “How about this, I’ll go feed her, then you can put her down while I tell Raven to mind her own business. We come back here, have very fast, very quiet sex, with enough time to make it to dinner?”

Lexa’s nose scrunched, “Must you tell Raven?”

Clarke lifted an eyebrow, “I went to the Academy with Raven. Do you know how many times we purposefully walked in on each other just because it was funny?”

The Varro’s thoughts went strange for moments before clearing her mind and conceding.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, Raven stirred, frowned, and groaned.

Her head pounded and her temples screeched in electric pulses of hot pain. Why was she lying on the floor? Shit, it was drafty down here. Warships are not escorts. Period. No matter how they try to dress it up.

She shifted, her back protesting. What happened?

In a flood of memory, the Betazoid sat bolt upright, a gasp forcing startled air into her lungs. She turned and fled to the parlor room of her shared quarters. Latching onto the side of the crib, she slammed the emergency contact buzzer on the baby monitor’s panel.

Her breath came in quick, shallow racks, and her head buzzed.

“Raven, what happened?” Lexa’s voice sounded out, and the rush of air told of running. Nearly in tandem, Clarke’s simultaneously alerted communicator pinged back her tap into surveillance.

Raven’s voice cracked, “Lexa –. I-.” she swallowed and touched the burn marks of a two-pronged device on her neck, “Someone jumped me, I-. Erina. She’s gone,” her throat closed.

Lexa stormed through the door, her face gaunt as death itself. She took in everything around her. One thing screamed at her: emptiness. And then.

Terror.

Sheer panic.

It was not dread. It was not anger, rage, sadness, or fright.

It was terror.

Cold and explosive in the base of Lexa’s skull, her heart stilled in her chest and her stomach turned over in a wash of sickness. Anything and everything she had been taught – drilled in by years of memorized and comfortable routine – gone in an instant. It was instinct.

Lexa reeled, her body ramming the wall behind her hard enough to dent. She nearly tore her comm badge off her chest as she opened a channel.

“Al’Lexa to Clarke,” her voice rasped, and the air felt blisteringly icy in her throat.

“Lexa??” Clarke’s voice came frantic, and Lexa planted a hand on the wall to steady herself, her eyes wide with panic, seeing nothing.

“Clarke!” she shouted, “I am here. _Where is Erina_?”

“Lexa,” Clarke said, a sob buried somewhere in her chest, “I’m watching the ship’s security feed,” hot air blistered her closing throat, “It’s- I see her, Lex. They’ve got her. Someone’s carrying her. To the mess,” she couldn’t even cry she was so panicked.

Lexa tried to still her mind. Her chest was hollow, and her hands shook as the ship’s schematic flashed through her mind.

“Clarke,” Lexa said hoarsely, “Where are you?”

“Engineering bay 1,”

“Get to the mess,” she flurried, feeling sick, “The ship’s emergency evacuation pods are attached to it,”

“Lexa,” Clarke whimpered, and the Varro nodded.

“I will meet you there. I love you,”

“Griffin, out,”

Lexa whirled on Raven and unclasped her entire equipment belt, shoving it at the Betazoid, “Take this, find Le’una and get her to help you. Tell her who you are and what has happened,”

“How?” Raven grit, her expression fearfully determined.

Lexa paused in her leap toward the door, “I do not care,” her expression flushed black, “Take her hostage if you have to,”

With that, she was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Meeting at the mess, they found her. At the far end of the hall was a line of escape pod entrances, the outermost doors all closed except for one. In the center pod, the interior glass doors were closed, the inside lit.

And occupied by a hulking figure at the controls, and a single, nude, human baby on the central island table, a hasty chunk of organo-foam serving as a baby carrier.

Lexa inhaled, and they darted to opposite sides of the door, hiding. Clarke swallowed dryly.

Her baby’s face was flushed with recent crying, and unhappy tracks of dried tears lined her eyes. Lexa let herself curse.

“Lexa, was that-“ Clarke’s voice cut in a choke, Lexa’s own rasping in astonishment.

“Cardassian,” she hollowed. Suddenly, rage filtered into her chest, “There is much more at play here than Le’una told me. And more than Anya implied,”

Clarke’s glance cut at her wife, her oceanic eyes awash with intent and panic.

“Lexa, I really could give a shit about that right now,” she harshed, “Focus,”

Lexa’s breath sliced in inhale, and she watched in abject horror as the figure through the glass moved around their baby, adjusting controls. Pressed to either side of the door, Lexa knew the barrier was sound proof, but it was totally see through.

“Lexa, we have to save her,” Clarke harshed, “I can’t track an escape pod, and these doors are designed so they can’t be programmed open,”

“Meaning they open from the inside?”

Clarke snapped, “Obviously,”

Lexa glared, and caught sight of the machine behind her wife’s head, a bolt of inspiration hitting her square in the chest.

“Clarke! Get me something to eat!”

“ _What?”_

“If we get her attention and not the Cardassian’s, and she sees me-,”

“-the doors might open,” Clarke exclaimed, her blue eyes swimming in a dust of an only hope. She grit her teeth, “Get her to look at you,”

Lexa nodded while Clarke moved, and ensured the moving Cardassian was turned in the small pod, planning the necessary route for travel. She stepped in full view of the door, and Erina immediately noticed her, her eyes brightening.

Lexa waved, smiling, knowing her daughter couldn’t hear her but not caring.

“Erina, my darling, hello,” she waved.

Clarke returned with a bowl of pudding to give to Lexa hastily, and the baby switched her focus, observing her Mama with interest.

“Erina!” Clarke piped, cooing, “Look here! Look, baby, look at Mommy!”

She waved her hands frantically and pointed to Lexa, her wife lofting a spoon excitedly.

“E’katerina,” Lexa hummed desperately, “Watch me, pumpkin,”

When Erina had laughed, green eyes fixed on her dancing mothers and shoved a foot in her mouth happily, Lexa immediately scooped the pudding into her mouth. Clarke bit her lip and slapped at her wife’s hip.

“Faster, more,”

Lexa made exaggerated movements with her utensil, rapidly eating as obviously as the Varro could manage. Clarke watched her daughter carefully, and felt a sparkle of elation.

“Lex, look!”

Lexa stopped, wiping her bottom lip with a thumb. Her eyes lit.

“Good girl,” she whispered, her heart melting.

Clarke smiled brilliantly. Lexa was seeing exactly what they both had been forced, feared, and frustrated at so often – Erina’s miniscule expression of interest, followed by a colossal frown of surprised focus. Her tiny features turned a temporary scarlet, and Clarke felt like crying with pride.

The Cardassian stopped his movements at the controls, and Clarke prayed to whatever entity was listening. Heartbeats passed, and the figure turned in the cramped space. Quickly, the two hid, only daring to breath and wait.

Lifetimes passed.

And the door opened.

With an unpleasant outpouring of aroma, the Cardassian’s grumbles and cursing escaped the pod. A hiccupping cry, and Clarke’s heart lurched as she heard her daughter’s surprise at being mishandled.

Thudding footsteps, and Lexa’s body was wound in tight coils of controlled rage ready to release. She saw Erina first, the Cardassian holding her out and away from him with both hands. As he walked out, Lexa jinked in behind him nearly quicker than Clarke’s human eyes could track.

In just as swift movements, Clarke bolted out in front, her arms outstretched just as Lexa reached and gathered the kidnapper’s throat in a powerful chokehold.

The element of surprise worked in their favor. In shock and disregard for the package he carried, Erina was dropped with a piercing shriek and caught not six inches below the point of release by her Mama.

Clarke immediately folded down to rest her troubled baby on her lap and shrugged out of her uniform’s blouse, using it to swaddle her daughter as she set about soothing her.

She stood, and turned so Erina couldn’t see Lexa.

Because Lexa, the woman of tenderness infinite, Erina’s gentle Mommy, was strangling a man to within an inch of his life, murderous intent in her jade eyes.

Lexa had taken the hulking figure to the ground and grappled with him until only spasms of fight wracked him every so often.

“Lexa,” Clarke called, her voice a wisp of smoked weariness. Her wife only adjusted her grip as the man tried to elbow her in the ribs behind him.

“Lex,” she said again, loud and worried, “We need him,”

The Varro’s jaw was wired shut in vengeance, and Clarke knew Lexa enough to realize fully that she didn’t care. She also knew she didn’t have the time to get rational thought through.

The Cardassian slumped, unconscious, and Lexa held on all the tighter.

“Lexa! I’m pregnant!”

Lexa blinked, looking up.

The man’s chest filled with air, and Clarke sighed, Erina finally quieting some.

“What?” Lexa blinked, releasing the man and standing.

Clarke laughed at the picture in front of her. A snoring Cardassian kidnapper of unknown origin and intent passed out on the floor, and her wife with a split lip and the softest look in her eye.

The woman shrugged, bouncing Erina and smiling.

“I’m pregnant,”

Lexa stared at her for a moment. Erina gurgled and grabbed at Clarke’s undershirt.

“Clarke,” Lexa finally swallowed, “Can you please- Will you repeat yourself? Please, my Starbright?”

Clarke’s heart wound, and her eyes started to mist.

“I’m pregnant, Lex. I’m pregnant. Raven felt it,”

Lexa’s expression, usually reigned in certainty and self control, twisted upwards, and her eyes flooded with tears. A smile ripped through her lips and just as quickly pursed to match the soul-searing love in her eyes. She looked from Erina to Clarke’s peaceful devotion in quick succession and smiled again.

“We get another?” she choked, “Clarke? We are having another?”

Lexa’s voice quivered, and she stepped forward in contrastingly sure steps, her hand going to Erina’s soft hair.

“She will have a,” Lexa swallowed, blinking rapidly to futilely clear the tears from her eyes, “-a sibling?”

Clarke, her heart aflame in her chest, nodded.

When Lexa wrapped her and their daughter in an embrace, Clarke’s entire posture slacked, Erina an anchoring weight shared between them.

“Thank you, Clarke,” Lexa cried, her head resting heavily on her mate’s shoulder, her hand not leaving Erina’s hair, “My Starbright. Thank you,”

“Lexa,” Clarke soothed, cooing like Lexa were Erina on a fussy night, “It’s alright,” she couldn’t help but smile at the reaction. Lexa was really too perfect, “It’s alright,”

Lexa breathed and nodded, finally lifting her head to press her forehead to Clarke’s, tears of happiness adorning her cheek like diamond drew drops.

“It is much more than alright, my Clarke,” she whispered, teeth flashing in every word she spoke, “It is amazing,”

“Yeah,” Clarke grinned back, “It is,” she brushed Lexa’s nose with her own, “But we really need to figure out why I’m immune to birth control,”

Lexa let herself laugh a watery, relief-like gasp. In the middle of the sound, their moment was rent in two as the mess hall doors opened, Raven and Luna rushing through into the stillness.

Raven’s eyes took everything in, from their embrace, to Erina, to the unconscious Cardassian.

“Well,” she stunted, looking to a deeply confused Luna, “She called a meeting with that Titus guy. Can you guys handle it?” she thought for a moment, the overwhelming color of joy conflicting with what her eyes were seeing. It clicked.

“Oh my Deities, you told her!” Raven cheered, and Clarke smiled sheepishly. Lexa only wiped her eyes and stood irregularly rigidly, unable and unwilling to restrain her smile.

“Le’una,” Lexa addressed, “I realize the timing is odd, which my wife still has to answer for,” she shot Clarke an amused look, “But it seems we are going to have a second child,”

Raven clasped her hands in happiness, while Luna’s confused expression went even deeper into puzzlement. Lexa shifted her shoulders, recalling her own bafflement at the idea of multiple children.

“I will explain everything later,” she abbreviated. Luna’s eyebrows rose, and she nodded.

“For now,” Luna finally replied, “we must focus on the matter at hand,”

Her features flexed in concern and dark perplexity at the unconscious invader, “I believe we have much to discuss with our cleric,”

Lexa sobered, and nodded. She breathed.

“Luna, are you able to discreetly call a routine meeting with him? I will handle the Cardassian,”

Luna nodded, but looked to Lexa significantly. A momentary pause, and she addressed Clarke, “My welcome to your, um, other child?” she smiled weakly in hopes she didn’t miss the cultural mark, “But please do not let Lexa kill him. He is useful still,”

Clarke nearly laughed at the assessment of her wife’s habits. If Luna only knew. Still, she nodded.

“Got it. Can you get Titus to meet with you soon?”

“Yes. He came to me regarding your mating discretely,” Luna flushed in easy shame lightly, “I can simply tell him it regards the same,”

Clarke cocked an eyebrow in amusement, Lexa clearing her throat.

“Very well,” Lexa replied, “Thank you,”

Luna nodded before turning to leave. At the door she hesitated, and then bowed at the waist. When the doors closed, Lexa burst out laughing.

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Okay, what does the bowing thing mean?”

 

* * *

 

 

“You stole from the Cardassian Empire to have a bargaining chip for Federation assistance,” Lexa said, her face inscrutable.

Ti’tus shifted uncomfortably under the eyes of Luna, Raven, Clarke, and Lexa. He had been ambushed and made to watch the security tape of the Cardassian’s invasion and subsequent kidnapping.

“It was necessary,” he intoned, grave and shameful.

“Your actions put my daughter at risk,” Lexa’s voice was a rolling thunder, and Clarke’s spine tightened at the reverberation, “If it were not for Raven, Erina would be dead or worse,”

Lexa didn’t cry, but even Luna gasped in retroactive panic.

“By rights, I should be allowed a trail in effort to kill you myself, Ti’tus Na’blud,” Lexa leaned her full weight over the table and tempered her voice to a powerful whisper, “But I am not going to do that. I am not even going to report you to Starfleet,”

Ti’tus looked up in sharpened askance to meet the burning damnation in Lexa’s eyes.

“I will not, because Starfleet will have you arrested, the alliance will be rejected, and all of our people will die. Because of you,” a beat, and Lexa straightened, turning her back to the man and speaking more calmly as she walked around the table, “No, what I will do instead is relay exactly what you will do from now on. And you will do it,” her expression went dead in detached promise, “Or I will have justice for my daughter. In the Varro high court or in Starfleet jurisdiction. Do you understand?”

Ti’tus’ black eyes simmered in calculated fear, his mouth twitching. Finally, a quake racked his spine, and he nodded in millimeters, “Yes,” he intoned, “I understand,”

Lexa nodded tightly, and Clarke’s heart eased from the knot she hadn’t realized it had manifested itself into. Lexa sat, and her hands folded gracefully.

“You will cease the ridiculous charade of human-Varro relation out of respect for my mate. It is clearly a successful pairing. You will work cooperatively with Starfleet to integrate the Varro with the Federation. You will tell me what it is you have stolen, and follow my instructions on how to navigate the fall out,”

Ti’tus’ expression went pleading, “I cannot. To submit now would earn the disrespect and condemnation of the Federation. They will take advantage of our people,”

“Undoubtedly,” Lexa nodded, “Which is why you will offer your only condition of peaceable relations to be the election of myself to negotiate on behalf of the Varro. I will ensure our people find a colony of our own,”

Tit’us looked unsure, and Lexa’s voice clinched, “Do not forget that this is not a debate. These are the terms of your survival,”

After a grit to his jaw, Ti’tus nodded.

 

* * *

 

“I have to hand it to him, the composition alloy plans for the Cardassian battleships? That’s genius,” Clarke lazed, watching Erina on the floor of their new living room.

Lexa hummed, her posture relaxed as she reached an arm out to rest over Clarke’s shoulders. Clarke reached to play with Lexa’s hand on her, and sent her an affectionate look.

“Why genius?” Octavia asked from her position on the opposite couch.

On the floor, Raven handed Erina her escaped ball, “Knowing the exact make up of anything is a weapons engineer’s dream,” she smiled at the baby.

Across from her, Anya sat rigidly cross legged, her tall Ruji fram folded in disciplined patience. As she watched Raven play with Erina, she nodded, “With the alloy’s composition percentages, we can now design magnetic repellants, traps, and even disintegration bombs specific to Cardassian warships,”

“To name only a few,” Raven smiled mischievously.

“Wow,” Octavia grinned. She swiveled her head back to the married couple, “So what’s it gonna be, Commander Mommy? Have you decided on a job yet? We all know Clarke’s going to nerd it up at the Academy soon, but what about you?”

Lexa lifted her eyebrow and Anya frowned.

“Yes. I have,” she replied easily.

“Octavia,” Anya intoned, “You are an officer of Starfleet. You should not make a mockery of our rank structure,”

“Jesus Christ,” Octavia murmured, “These tall, stoic types,” she shook her head, “What’s with them?”

Clarke only smiled, cocking an eyebrow and winking at Octavia. Without even seeing the gesture, Lexa felt it and laughed. Anya looked blankly at the seated woman, her eyes narrowing in faux offense. Raven looked contemplative in her observation of her ex-Captain.

“Anyway,” Octavia groaned, “So what’d you pick?”

Clarke felt Lexa huff a laugh and picked up the thread of conversation, “She’s going to be an Aide in the Federation Bureau of Planetary Treaties. The Varro Treaty impressed the Federation Council so much they even asked her to look into them,”

Octavia whistled, her smile more of amusement at the pride in Clarke’s voice.

“And you’ll get to come home to little baby ‘Tavia,”

Lexa glared at the human on her couch while Clarke laughed, “In your dreams, O. But yeah, she’ll be around. It’ll be good,” she smiled peacefully at her wife, and Octavia wrinkled her nose in playful marital distaste.

“Well that sounds like a nice gig,”

“It is,” Anya added from the floor, “It is an incredibly honorable position, and has potential to take her far,”

“Well put,” Octavia mocked Anya’s formality. She noticed Raven’s face go interested once again, “What’s up, Rae?”

The Betazoid roused herself from her own thoughts and sent a challenging look to the woman on the floor with her.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

Clarke stilled, and Lexa’s eyes went wide. Octavia seemed to choke on nothing. Anya didn’t flinch. The markings around face seemed to swim as she smiled only with her eyes.

“Yes,”

“Good,” Raven smiled, resuming her baby talk to Erina, who was oblivious to the attitude of the room.

Clarke looked to Lexa, who only sent Raven an impressed look. She exchanged expressions with Anya of peaceful acceptance, and relaxed once more. Lexa’s smile at Clarke was met with a kiss as Lexa’s hand played with Clarke’s wedding ring.

A wink and a questioning look from Lexa, and Clarke burst out laughing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are amazing. 
> 
> With Love, 
> 
> K

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented about Clexa in Space. This one took hold of my heart. I've written 101 pages so far. What have I done? Shout out to breezered's (Space)The Final Frontier. One of my favorite fics. 
> 
> There will be a part 2 up soon. 
> 
> Edit* someone asked me about Tumblr. The answer is yes, but I'm not very good at it: katkonstant
> 
> With Love,  
> K


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